Mosaic
by Benibara Hirano
Summary: "I'm dead." "Yes." "And I'm being reborn into a fictional world." "Precisely." "As the younger sister of Harry's dad." "I'm glad you understand." "... I do wish you'd make sense." "Why, I believe I'm being perfectly sensible at the moment." "Nice try. No." I don't think being shoved into the Harry Potter world is normal. Even if I'm dead. Warning: OC, a few changes in canon plot.
1. Chapter 1

The strange, sluggish movements of the swirls and paintings made my head whirl and I clamped my mouth shut, willing my stomach to calm the shit down. There was no love lost between me and vomiting.

Wait. Frowning, I looked down at myself, growing more and more confused as I observed my jean-clad, hoodie-wearing body. That was odd. I swear I just got hit by a bus... shouldn't there be blood and pain and stuff like that? I felt just fine.

Deciding that my body wasn't going to be offering answers anytime soon, I looked around, blinking at the exceedingly unusual sight that greeted my eyes.

Paintings framed in everything from gold to what seemed to be crayons floated around aimlessly, while a blank nothingness in the form of dark red and black with the occasional streak of gold swirling around almost lazily. Glancing downward again, I realized I was floating in space as well.

"That's new," I muttered, inspecting my surroundings. I probably should have been more surprised by this, but if you'd lived for nineteen years with a family like mine, nothing short of a man walking on water shocks you.

"Indeed, it is." A new voice, smooth and slightly accented, spoke up from behind me. Twisting my head to look over my shoulder, I found myself gazing at a shamelessly beautiful woman smiling at me.

She had dark blonde hair pulled into a loose fishtail braid (I never did get the hang of it) and arching brows, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes bordering on silver. Full red lips with a tiny mole to the right, and light bronze skin, she looked awfully gorgeous. Her killer figure, outlined by the long, navy grecian dress didn't help my self-esteem any.

"... Right. Who're you again?" Squinting at her, I racked my brain to try and recall if I'd met the woman before. Though I doubted it; she was too pretty to forget.

The mystery woman shrugged. "We've never met before," she informed me. I nodded slowly, taken aback. Whoa, mind-reader much? "My name... well, you can just call me Aella for now."

"Pleasure to meet you... I s'pose." I looked around us again. "I'd tell you my name, but I'm not quite sure what it is. Maybe it's because of amnesia? But anyway, do you know where we are? Doesn't look like New Jersey to me."

Aella looked mildly surprised. "You remember things from your past life?"

Raising my eyebrows, I turned back to her. "Well, obviously. And what do you mean, past life? You make it sound like I'm... dead..." It finally dawned on me. "Oh, hell. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Quite, yes," she said regretfully, nodding. "You were hit by a bus. The driver lost control due to the ice on the road."

Ah... I remembered. "It snowed a lot in Westbrooke."

She studied me carefully, eyes boring into me almost uncomfortably. "... I expected more of a negative reaction out of you. Normally, people cry or deny that they're now deceased."

"Well, I'm feeling strangely apathetic," I said dryly. "Besides, being hit by a bus and dying sounds far more painless than being stabbed to death by a crazy ex in a shower or something. It's not like I can up and decide I'm going to live again anyways." I looked at her. "So, are you my guide to the afterlife? I hope there's a place for people who just lived in the gray zone like me, 'cause I doubt I'm heaven material, but not hell either."

Aella smiled at me ruefully. "I'm afraid not in that manner," she said. "You see, you've been chosen to enter a world where your presence is needed. They've decided that you'd be the best candidate for the job, and now that I've met you, I think they made a good choice with you."

"... Mind clarifying that for me?"

"Absolutely." She drifted past me and I got the feeling I ought to follow. While we were... floating along, she started speaking. "By the way, your name is - or was - Heidi Antoinette Livington. You despised your first name and preferred that others call you 'Toni,' derived from your middle name. You died when you were returning from giving your little sister a ride to the mall."

"Stupid Cassie," I muttered blandly. "Alright, sure, but what was that bit about entering a world that needed me? Still hung up on that, sorry."

Aella's lips twitched. "Very well. Have you ever heard of the Harry Potter series, Heidi?"

"It's Toni," I corrected absently. "And yes, actually - I was a fan. Read the entire thing a hundred times over, obsessed over the movies til the bitter end. Why do you ask?"

"You will be entering the world portrayed in the books." Calmly, as if she hadn't just said the most ridiculous thing on Earth, she plowed on. "Well, actually, many years before the adventures of Harry Potter ever begin. You will be born as the younger sister of James Potter, Harry's father."

Stopping dead in my tracks, I held my hands up in the universal sign for stop. "Whoa, okay, let's get this straight. I'm dead."

"Yes."

"And I'm being reborn into a fictional world."

"Precisely."

"... As the younger sister of Harry's dad."

"I'm glad you understand."

"… I do wish you'd make sense."

"Why, I believe I'm being perfectly sensible at the moment."

Scoffing, I crossed my arms across my chest. "Nice try. No. First of all, there _is_ no little sister of James Potter in the series whatsoever. I can't just... pop in there like a retard. It'd mess up the entire storyline!"

"Actually, yes, you can," she interrupted smoothly. "You'd be born as the character, so everyone would naturally accept your presence. You won't magically appear in your nineteen year old state in the middle of the Great Hall, obviously. And as for the storyline..." She peered at me with analytical blue orbs. "Are you willing to allow the deaths of so many great people and therefore lead Harry to a life of suffering and abuse because you wanted to preserve the plot of a page-turner?"

Well, if you put it that way... Grumbling, I uncrossed my arms and sighed. "Alright, fine, you win. But what am I supposed to do, kill Voldemort or something? Or, no, should I reveal the secrets of the entire series and save the world?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Aella said airily. "Of course not. Don't worry, you'll just live your new life as you would any other, and subtly change a few things along the way. I'll be guiding you when you need my assistance."

I snorted. "Oh, really? And how will you do that, I wonder? Are you going to be residing inside my head?"

The silence on her end was unnerving. "Oh. Oh bloody mothertripping hell, _no_. You can't actually be serious!"

"Language," she reproached casually. "And yes, I am absolutely serious. From time to time you'll hear my voice within your head." She paused and looked me over. "You seem to be far more emotional than you were a few minutes ago."

"I was just told that I'm going to have a voice inside my head," I snapped. "Of course I'd be more emotional. What did you think I'd do, nod dumbly and say okay to everything?"

Her silence once again spoke volumes. I buried my face in my hands. "Just, okay, just, no. No. This is madness. What the hell am a person like _me_ supposed to do -"

"Well, would you look at the time!" Aella exclaimed, looking up. I saw nothing, but she apparently did, because she grabbed my arm and we were flashing past more paintings at the speed of light. In a matter of seconds, we were standing in front of a beautifully crafted door, framed by gilded metal ivy with gleaming silver flowers, jewels embedded along the edges. "Have fun, Heidi, and we'll speak again. Later!"

"My name's Toni, damn you!"

She shoved me through the door, which had magically opened to reveal a gaping black hole, and I was screaming as I fell, eyes catching a glimpse of Aella cheerfully waving before I was tumbling, head over heels.

Alice in Wonderland had nothing on me, bitches.


	2. Chapter 2

I entered my new life screaming.

After what seemed to be an eternity of falling, somehow my lungs hadn't given out yet, and when the white light engulfed me I was still screaming. And covered in blood. I guessed, correctly, that I was now in the body of James Potter's just-born little sister when warm hands cradled me, lifting up my squalling self while crooning nonsense softly. I persisted in screaming, determined to get the irritation and confusion from the encounter with Aella out of my system.

"Congratulations, Lady Potter!" Another voice, this time male, exclaimed a little to the right. "It's a healthy little girl!" The hands holding me disappeared for a split second before another pair gently embraced me. Even with my tiny baby eyes closed I could sense that I was now pressed against a woman's warm chest, her heartbeat quick but breaths labored, tired. There was a smile in her voice though, when she graced me with her words. "Hello, loved one."

I racked my brain for the name of James's mother - something starting with a D, I think...

The sound of a door opening greeted my ears and then footsteps, loud and hurried, quickly approaching the bed. "Dorea!" The newcomer gasped, halting at the foot of the bed. "Oh Merlin, is that...?"

"Come and meet your daughter, Charlus," Dorea Potter said, amusement laced through every word - amusement, and the barest hint of exhaustion. "You just missed her, love."

It took him a while to start moving again, and when he did, he was muttering grumpily to himself. "Oh bother - I step out because James needed me, and I miss my own daughter being born! Dorea, when she's older, we're never telling her that I wasn't present at her birth, agreed?"

"Whatever you say, Charlus." Dorea - no, my mother now, I suppose - seemed entertained by her husband's antics. "Now come, look at our beautiful baby girl."

She handed me over to him, and I ceased my wailing for a bit, curious in spite of myself of my new father's reaction. A pair of strong, but hesitant arms circled around my infant body, but quickly held on a bit tighter after he realized he was probably going to drop me. He sounded utterly awed as he said in a hushed voice, "My daughter... my _daughter_..."

Dorea - Mother, I reminded myself - was murmuring to someone else, and soon another pair of feet were walking out of the room, leaving presumably only the three Potters. Deciding that I'd refrained from allowing myself the pleasures of sight for long enough, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a handsome face that seemed to be in his early forties or late thirties, with his dark brown eyes gazing down at me in utmost wonder.

"Merlin's pants, Dorea!" He exclaimed, looking at his wife with childish glee. "She opened her eyes! She's got your eyes, love, pretty and gray." His voice softened. "My daughter is gorgeous, Dorea."

Mother made a vague sound of amusement before demanding, "Give her to me, Charlus, I want to see for myself. And don't their eye colors change after a while?" He obliged, muttering about how my eyes better stay that way, and soon I was staring up into a weary but beautiful face glowing with happiness, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead lightly. "What a lovely girl," she murmured, then laughed as she grinned at her husband. "We'll be dealing with ten marriage proposals a day when she's just eleven, Charlus." Well, that sounded fun.

Father made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and his wife laughed heartily at his expense before turning her loving gaze back to me. "Do we have a name for her, love?"

Snapping out of whatever horrified trance he'd been in, her husband stepped close and peered at my face thoughtfully. "Do you want to follow the usual Black tradition and name her after constellations? After all, we followed the Potter one of naming our sons after kings."

"I'd like that," Mother sighed, brushing a finger against my cheek. "How many constellations do you know, Charlus?"

"Er," he said, suddenly sounding awkward, "I actually don't know much... Astronomy was never my strongest point." He flushed as his wife laughed, but shrugged and grinned sheepishly with her. "You're better with these things, love, go ahead and choose."

She looked thoughtful as the laughter subsided. "Hm... I always did like the names Carina and Lyra. What do you think?"

"Carina Potter," he mused, "That sounds nice, but so does Lyra Potter. Hm... Let's ask James, shall we?"

A snort. "James is a year old, you idiot," a male voice scolded, but there was definitely a smile there. "He can't talk, or do much other than gurgle and eat and make a mess."

"Marius!" Charlus greeted, delighted to see the newcomer. "Good timing, friend - your niece has been born."

"I have eyes, Charlus," was the dry response. He approached and I caught a glimpse of kind but tired features with worn robes draped over his body. "The mediwitch was furious, Charlus, you should have seen them - they were desperate to keep your blasted son quiet, apparently some idiot of a witch decided it'd be a good idea to scold him for gnawing on her hair. He's just calmed down - here."

A blue bundle was thrust into my father's arms, where it made tiny noises of discomfort before relaxing. Bright hazel eyes peeked over Charlus's arms to stare down at me, and I stared right back. Instantly a wide smile broke out over the baby's face and he wiggled enough to free his arms, waving them in my general direction, babbling loudly and excitedly.

Marius sounded amused. "Would you look at that," he said, "Brat James recognizes his kid sister, doesn't he? Looks like they'll get along, at least." I stared. That was James Potter? My brother?

"Oh, don't pick on James so, Marius," Mother retorted, nevertheless smiling. "Here, hold your niece for a while, won't you?"

"Yes, sister." The smell of cigars and something woody filled my nose as Marius shifted me in his grasp. He studied me carefully with intelligent black eyes. "You know, Dorea, this girl's a heck of a lot more quiet than your son ever was. Maybe she'll be the well-behaved one and he'll be the naughty little rascal always giving you a headache."

Charlus barked out a laugh. "I hope to Merlin he'll calm down before Hogwarts," he said good-naturedly. "McGonagall's no patience for troublemakers."

"Right," Marius said, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "Hogwarts."

The air suddenly seemed a lot tenser. "Oh, Marius," Dorea sighed, holding a wiggling James Potter in her arms, "You know it doesn't matter to us that you don't have magic."

"_You_ don't," he said, an undercurrent of bitterness coursing through his voice, "but the _others_ do. Remember, I was blasted off the family tapestry for it. I'm eternally grateful that you both helped me when everything looked dreadful, but nothing will change that I'm a Squib."

Charlus groaned and came over to smack his brother-in-law on the back, jostling me a bit. "Merlin's foot, Marius, it should speak volumes about how much we value you as a person when we haul you over to watch James, and now our daughter. So what if you're a Squib? Doesn't change who you are, eh?"

Marius snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate." But he looked considerably happier. "So, what's her name?"

"Er... we don't know." Charlus brightened and turned to his son, who was being fussed over by out mother. "Alright, son, let's do this: hit my right hand if you vote for Carina, and my left if you say Lyra's a better choice."

James stared at the outstretched hands with quizzical eyes, stilling briefly, before gurgling and _kicking_ the right hand with his foot. He made gleeful noises as he watched his father yelp and clutch his hand, shooting his gasping wife a betrayed look. "Don't laugh!"

"So I guess your name is Carina then," Marius told me, ignoring the general mayhem in the background. We locked eyes for a moment before his own crinkled up into a smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Carina Potter."

I huffed softly in response. A pleasure indeed.

* * *

_**Six Years Later**_

I looked up from my book, irritation written clearly across my face in bold letters as my brother scampered up next to me, clutching a struggling brown rabbit in his clumsy seven-year-old hands.

"Rina!" James said breathlessly, all smiles and red cheeks. "Look at what I found!"

I gave the animal a flat look, which I turned to my brother. "A rabbit."

He deflated a bit, before perking up. "Here!" he said brightly, thrusting it out, nearly hitting my nose. "It can be your new pet!"

Despite myself, I found a small smile tugging my lips up. Even though he was a ball of hyperactive energy and trouble rolled into one, he was a sweetheart at times. "It's adorable," I admitted, patting the wiggling creature soothingly. Miraculously, it stopped moving, nose twitching a little before relaxing. "Thank you James."

The smile on his face spread so wide that I was afraid it would split his face in two and he plopped down next to me on the gentle slope, under the massive oak that had been providing me shade to read and keep cool at the same time. "So what'cha reading?" he asked, curiously leaning over to stare at the book.

Placing the bunny on my lap, I picked up the relatively thin volume and shrugged. "_The Beginner's Guide to Pureblood Etiquette_," I replied, thumbing through the white sheets to find the page I'd lost upon my brother's entrance. "Personally, I'd much rather be reading _An Easy Transition into Potions_ or _The Executioner's Bride_, but Mummy told me I ought to finish this one before I read the other ones."

"Potions?" James scrunched up his nose, as if he'd smelled something unpleasant. "Why in Merlin's beard would you want to read about _potions?"_

I sniffed and petted the bunny with one hand, enjoying the softness of its fur. "Because, unlike the usual set of spells, potions is a lot more subtle and it's really hard for people who can't follow directions very well." James gave a sheepish laugh at my pointed look. "You can do so many things with just a few items, James!"

"Yeah, well, Quidditch is a lot harder and it's much more exciting than waiting for some bubbly mush to turn red or something," he retorted, flopping down onto his back. "Oh! Rina, d'you wanna steal some of Dad's brooms to go for a ride?"

"No!" I yelped, twisting to fix him with a scowl. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you rode an actual broom? There's a reason why Daddy only lets us ride the trainer brooms!"

He huffed, scratching his neck idly. "It was just a broken arm," he muttered. "Mum fixed it up in a minute anyway." Still, he gave up when he realized that I wasn't going to help him the slightest bit, and sighed heavily, staring at the clouds.

"What are you going to name it?" he said abruptly. At my puzzled look, he pointed at the bunny sniffing the grass at my feet. "The rabbit. Are you going to name it?"

With James around, I probably wasn't going to get much reading done. Memorizing the page number - twenty-five - for later, I shut the book and shrugged. "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"... A boy?" James groaned. "Does it _matter_, Rina?"

I was onto him in a second. "Yes, it matters! How would _you_ feel if Mummy named you Harriet or Victoria or, or, or Louisa instead of James?"

He looked at me, aghast. "That's horrible!"

"Exactly!" I smiled, triumphant. "See, if the rabbit is a boy but we named it Miss Harriet, then he'd feel awful, right? So it matters!"

James was frustrated. "But it's a _rabbit,_ Carina, not a person like us! It's not going to _know_ if it's being confused for a boy or a girl!"

"How do _you_ know?" It was childish, but I enjoyed the look on his face, as if he wanted to tear his hair out at my stubbornness. I hadn't had so much fun - or the chance to be openly childish - since I was Heidi Antoinette Livington at the tender age of eight, after which I'd decided that being a kid was uncool. Famous last words.

James sighed. "Alright, fine - we'll name it something that can be for both girls _and_ boys, how about that?" Without waiting for confirmation, he steamrolled ahead. "Fudge!"

I gave him the Look.

"Alright, maybe not," he hastily backtracked. "Uh... Pumpkin?"

Snorting, I shook my head. "You're terrible at this, James."

"Apple pie! Treacle tart! Cranberry!"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why are they all food?"

He grinned guiltily. "I'm hungry."

While he was searching for a suitable name, I took the chance to observe my brother. He was a charming boy, with a cheeky grin and constantly tousled black hair that he couldn't tame even if he wanted to - which he didn't - along with a set of deep hazel eyes, more often than not flashing with mischief. There was an aura of general arrogance even as a seven year old, and he lived a carefree life. Mother always called him exhausting, but the fond look in her eyes never faded. Father was shamelessly proud of him, calling him a brilliant man in the making, and James was just about adored by everyone, even the house elves.

I, on the other hand, was his polar opposite in everything but facial structuring and name. We both possessed inky black locks from our mother, with the same aristocratic nose and high cheekbones but a lightly tanned skin tone from our father. And that's where the similarities ended.

Whereas he had tawny brown eyes like a lion's, a little darker, I had my mother's stormy gray eyes. James was loud and fun-loving, often acting on spur-of-the-moment urges, but I prefered being quiet and sticking to my trusty books. Perhaps it was because I'd been nineteen when I'd been dropped unceremoniously into this life, but I still maintained my love of books and a milder personality. While James loved to shine, I was unimpressed with most flattering words from people I didn't give two shits about and had already perfected the poker face. Hell, even our first words were vastly different - James had, predictably, babbled "Mum" (much to Charlus's disappointment), but I had accidentally blurted out "Dammit" when I'd tripped yet again. There'd been a dead silence, broken by Dorea's eerily calm inquirement as to who had _dared_ curse in the presence of her daughter. (Charlus had slept in one of the spare bedrooms that night.)

My intelligence, which naturally far surpassed that of a six year old, had initially unnerved my parents before I'd wisely toned it down a little, replacing 'Mother' and 'Father' with 'Mummy' and 'Daddy' more suitable for a child. They'd been easily persuaded to believe that it had been because of my books that I could speak a large range of words, though the downside was that I couldn't choose my books before having Mother approve of them beforehand. Not that it stopped me, but it would have been nice to pick books without having to pull off my secret stash of ninja moves.

"Rina. Rina? Rina! Carina!"

Startled out of my thoughts, I stared at my brother, who had been waving a hand in my face. "Yes?"

He sat back, smugness practically oozing out of him. "I have a name for your rabbit!"

"Really? Like what?"

James puffed his chest out. "Vega!"

"Vega? As in the star?"

He nodded. "You were almost named Lyra, remember? And Vega's a star in Lyra!" He seemed extraordinarily pleased with himself. "It's a good name!"

"Vega," I mused. Glancing down at the rabbit nosing around the green grass, I smiled helplessly. "It's really fancy for a rabbit, but I'll take it. Thank you, James."

That smile was just too freaking cute.

"Now let's _go_," James said impatiently, tugging on my hand. "I want some treacle tart!"

Deciding it wouldn't be too harmful to indulge him of his sweet tooth, I rolled my eyes but clambered to my feet, scooping up the newly christened Vega in one arm, the book in another. "Alright, but don't blame me if Mummy scolds you again."


	3. Chapter 3

_**4 Years Later**_

"MUM! DAD! I GOT THE LETTER!"

Groaning, I peeled my face off of the pillow and glared blearily at the wall, my brother's shouts having reached my room on the second floor. A glance at the clock and I made a strangled sound of disbelief and rage rolled into one, promptly plopping back down. It was bloody seven in the morning, and I am not a morning person.

Unfortunately, I also have trouble going back to sleep once I've been woken from my slumber, so unhappily I found myself stumbling over to the massive wardrobe in the corner, which when opened was even larger. Magic. (And literally, that.)

I was about to pull on a loose, comfortable blue sweater when a loud _crack!_ had me jumping, shrieking before I managed to clamp a hand over my mouth. Whirling around, I glowered at the house elf, who seemed unperturbed by my accusatory eyes.

"Good morning, Miss Carina," Nelly the house elf squeaked, bowing low before snatching the clothes out of my hands. "Miss Carina must not wear something so drab today! Master Potter says to Nelly that Miss must dress nicely!" With a snap of her long, knobbly fingers, the nice outfit consisting of a sweater and shorts was replaced by a blue dress and white cardigan. I scowled.

"But Nelly," I whined, drawing out the vowels, "I hate that dress!" Actually, I'd never seen the thing before.

Nelly didn't skip a beat. Another snap, and in its place was a hideous pink monstrosity swarming with lace and fluffy ribbons. I shuddered and hurriedly said, "I think I'll take the other one, thanks."

"As Miss Carina says!"

So five minutes later, after a thorough shower and maddening hairstyling (really, I'm just ten - what happened to those good old ponytails, eh?), I was seated at the dining table, glaring down at the plate. My grumpiness went by unnoticed - more accurately, it was ignored. The entire Potter household had long grown accustomed to my less than pleasant morning self and had learned to just deal with it.

"Mum, Dad, look, my letter!" James was repeating, almost vibrating in his chair due to the utter excitement coursing through him. "My _letter!_ From _Hogwarts!"_

"No James," I muttered darkly, viciously spearing a roll, "it's from Santa Claus."

Again, they chose to ignore me.

"Sweetheart, that's lovely," Mum said warmly, swishing her wand this way and that, preparing James's favorite breakfast. "I'm so proud of you, dear."

He puffed out his chest and turned to our father. "Dad, look, a Hogwarts letter!"

"It's incredible," I grumbled, stuffing a spoonful of scrambled eggs into my mouth. "What magnificent parchment and ink." Ignored, as always.

Dad yawned but managed to grace his son with a proud smile. "You'll be in Gryffindor, I bet, just like all the rest of the Potter men. Give McGonagall a year she'll never forget, alright son?"

"Yeah!" James gulped down some pumpkin juice. "Gryffindor for sure, Dad, nowhere else for me!"

"Maybe the circus exhibit for rare and annoying creatures." I chuckled darkly. "James Potter, irritating morning-interrupter extraordinaire! Imagine that."

Mum passed by with the change for the _Daily Prophet_ for the owl waiting impatiently on the kitchen windowsill and frowned reproachfully at me. "Carina," she scolded, "sit up straight! You're a young lady now."

Right. When I was ten as Heidi Livington I was allowed to sleep in on the weekends. Sometimes even to noon. And when dragged to breakfast I was usually an inch away from faceplanting into my bowl of cereal.

But, as the young Lady Potter, a little witch from a pureblood family, I was expected to remain prim and proper at all times. To hell with that. I'll wake up nicely when James stops being so damned loud.

"Rina! Look! My Hogwarts letter!" James was shaking the accursed object frantically at me from across the table, sporting a dazzlingly bright smile. I averted my eyes, staring at the crispy bacon on my plate. Too. Damned. Bright. For mornings.

"It's great, James," I said as enthusiastically as was possible given my current state. "I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead with your charisma and talent. Say hi to Dumbledore for me, okay?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Mum corrected, handing the newspaper to my father, who looked more awake with the help of a cup of steaming coffee. I eyed the cup enviously - as a nineteen year old, I had never started a day without at least a cup of the stuff. Sometimes, being a kid sucked.

James and I pretended we didn't hear her. "I know! It's amazing, isn't it?" he asked, admiring the letter for the nth time.

"Absolutely brilliant," I mumbled, finishing my breakfast. This time, a pack of Chocolate Frogs hit me on the head. "Ow!"

Mum raised a brow at me, and I decided not to argue, instead munching on the dessert in sullen silence. James tore into it with gusto, eyes never leaving the letter. I sighed. He wasn't going to shut up about it for a while, I could tell.

* * *

"Wicked," James breathed, awestruck by the sight.

I had to agree with him. Diagon Alley was fabulous beyond words.

My brother's eyes landed on the Quidditch shop and dove toward it when Father grabbed him by the collar, stopping him short. "Not so fast, son," he said sternly. "No broomsticks for first years, remember?"

James groaned. "How could I forget?"

Sniggering at his crestfallen expression, I tugged the navy cloak tighter around my shoulders. Even though it was still July, I had always been one to feel colder sooner than everyone else, even in my previous life, and the slightest winds of autumn chilled me enough to bring along a warm cloak.

"Let's head to Madam Malkin's first," Mum suggested, peering at the letter she'd somehow wrestled out of her son's hand. "Oh, no, how about we split up? James can go with you, Charlus, and Carina can come with me. We'll head to Madam Malkin's first."

Dad had only a moment to nod before we were off, Mum tossing him the copy of the list of first-year requirements. The streets were crowded, filled to the brim with all sorts of witches and wizards. I wish I'd had about a hundred pairs of eyes - James and I had been raised in a relatively sheltered manner, with few chances to meet other wizarding families for a "play date" or for the adults to discuss the newest information concerning the war. James might have been oblivious to the hushed talking, but I wasn't, purely because I had been keeping my ears open for such, determined to gather as much data on the war as possible in case any of it came in handy in later years, when I would also be attending Hogwarts. At least, I hoped I'd go to Hogwarts.

"Lady Potter!" A slightly plump woman hurried out to greet us, smiling warmly at my mother before leaning down to gaze at me. "And, dear me, you must be the young Miss Carina Potter! What a lovely daughter you have, ma'am."

Mum inclined her head gracefully and got straight to the point, no beating around the bushes. "Good afternoon, Madam Malkin. I need three sets of plain black robes, one plain pointed hat..."

Wandering from my mother's side, I explored the little shop that was actually much bigger than it looked from the outside, stopping at a mirror to scowl at my dress and tug the cloak over it in hopes that it would cover more of the blue fabric.

"Why cover it? I think it looks nice."

I nearly had a heart attack. Whipping around, I stared wide-eyed at the boy who'd spoken. He was clearly a pureblood, with that aura of superiority around him, and his dark brown eyes were cool and calculating. Unconsciously, I drew myself up to my full height (to be honest, not much) and released my own pureblood aura. Judging by the slightest hint of surprise in his eyes, he'd noticed the change.

He was handsome for a preteen, around my age, and had light brown hair bordering on sandy that casually fell over his forehead, a bit on the long side but not really. A gently sloped nose and flawless skin, save for a tiny scar above his left eyebrow - whoever this was, he was good-looking, and rich enough to wear the fancy emerald robes he wore.

We stared at each other, observing, before the silence was broken by the boy. He lifted his chin ever so slightly. "Evan Rosier," he introduced himself coolly. "Eldest son of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Rosier."

Smoothly, I dipped into a curtsey. Blasted pureblood etiquette. "Carina Potter of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter," I said, "A pleasure to meet you, Heir Rosier." The approving quirk of his lips confirmed that I had done it right. Joy.

Taking his offered hand, I rose from my curtsey. "Heir Rosier, pardon me for asking, but will you be attending Hogwarts this year?"

He nodded. "And you, Miss Potter?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid not - my elder brother, Heir James Potter, on the other hand, will be attending as a first year. Thus the reason for my presence in this shop today."

It irked me. I hate pureblood etiquettes. So stuffy and pompous, blech - that's one thing I don't love about being reborn as a witch here.

Rosier, though, seemed to like the manners and all that crap. "Ah," he said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Heir Potter - I've heard of him before, through a few family friends. Very energetic, isn't he?"

"Quite," I agreed. "Not a day goes by that he doesn't rope me into some wild adventure or another. But that's the way I prefer it, of course."

He looked at me closely. "Are you close to your brother, Miss Potter?"

"No more and no less than any other pair of brother and sister, I'd assume," I replied, head slightly bent. Freaking posh etiquette. I wanted to throttle something. "If you don't mind me asking, do you have any siblings of your own, Heir Rosier?"

Dark eyes regarded me unreadably before he smiled faintly. "Unfortunately, no, I am the only child of my parents." Unfortunately my ass, you posh bastard - you're probably another Draco Malfoy, aren't you?

I smiled back, careful not to let a single one of my true thoughts leak out. "I humbly apologize for my boldness. Though it must be nice not to be plagued with the headaches one's siblings can bring."

"Sometimes, I wish I had a brother or two myself," he answered, looking off to the side, eyes a bit unfocused. "It does get a bit lonely in a large manor without the company of those near one's age."

Oh? "Forgive me, but you seem the type to enjoy the silence that allows the mind to run rampant rather than the rowdy brawls or chatter of children."

Rosier turned to look at me, smile more pronounced. "Ah, but _you_ most certainly aren't rowdy, Miss Potter."

Crap. Time to redirect conversation. Subtle, Rina, subtle. "I admit that I'm a bit of an oddity, preferring the company of books and animals to those of fellow children. Though I am entertained of my brother's antics, of course, as any good sister ought to be."

"Books? How admirable -"

"RINA!"

We both startled, heads snapping to the disturbance in our conversation. I inwardly cringed as we saw my brother grinning widely, waving frantically at me. Clearing my throat, I curtseyed to the brat and said apologetically, "It seems that our conversation must come to an abrupt end, Heir Rosier. I hope you'll soon find the necessary items, and wish you a wonderful year at Hogwarts." Gratefully, I turned tail and walked as fast as it looked graceful and proper to, back to the comfort of my family.

"Who was that?" James demanded, tugging me out of the shop. "Your boyfriend?"

I smacked his arm. "James!"

Shrugging, he yanked me toward Fortescue's at a faster pace. "Just looked like it. So?"

"His name is Evan Rosiers, and he's the only son of the Rosier family. He'll be in your year, James, first-year Hogwarts like you."

Dad cut in before James could say anything. "Rosier?"

"Yes, Dad," I said, eyeing his expression carefully. "He said he was from the Most Noble and Ancient House of Rosier."

He pursed his lips. "Dearest, did you like him?"

"We talked using proper pureblood etiquette. So I might be a bit biased in saying that I don't necessarily care for him. But," I added hastily, "I didn't dislike him either."

Father hummed thoughtfully, but refrained from saying anything, for we were now at Fortescue's and James was demanding a ridiculous banana and honeyberry sundae far too large for him to finish. And I sure as hell wasn't going to help him eat it; I hated bananas.

I pretended like I hadn't seen a thing, but I _had_ noticed the look between Mum and Dad: worried and a bit dark.

* * *

"James!" I shouted, sticking my head out into the hall. "Are you torturing Orpheus in there?"

"Don't be absurd," he scoffed from his room, somehow audible over the screeching of his new owl. "He's fine, just a little bored."

I snarled. "Well shut him up or I will!" I retreated back into my room, slamming the door shut.

As a congratulatory gift for being accepted into Hogwarts, our parents had allowed James to pick either a cat or an owl, and James being who he was decided that owls were so much cooler and chose a Barred Owl, which he named Orpheus. Funny. Orpheus my ass, the thing sounded like he was dying a gruesome and wretched death.

"JAMES!" I bellowed, wrenching the door open again as the awful screeching filled the air after a brief silence. "MERLIN SO HELP ME, BUT I WILL TOSS THAT BIRD OUT THE WINDOW IF YOU DO NOT SILENCE IT THIS INSTANT!"

"FINE!" He yelled back. After a few thumps and stifled curses, the screeching died away. My brother's scowling face poked out of his room right down the hallway from mine. "If he doesn't come back and got lost, then you owe me a new owl."

I rolled my eyes. "James, it's a wizard-bred owl. It's not going to get lost, and if it does, then you need a new owl anyway. Messenger owls aren't supposed to be that stupid."

"Why're you so angry anyway? Upset your boyfriend didn't write?" he taunted, slipping back into his usual self. "Awww, it's okay, little sister, I'm sure he thinks of you!"

"Very funny," I snipped back. "Hardly - I can't focus on my new books with that thrice accursed wailing. Now that it's gone, maybe I can finally read them in peace."

James abandoned his room and entered mine, despite my best efforts to push him back out. "I still can't believe you bought ten books from Flourish and Blotts," he said, nose wrinkled at the sight of my precious new purchases. "Why do you need more books? We've got a whole library!"

"That's Mum and Dad's library, not mine," I reminded him crossly. "I'm ten, James, some of those books aren't meant for kids like me." Settling myself into the plush armchair under the large window, I grabbed the book I'd been trying to read and pulled out the bookmark.

James promptly invaded my privacy, resting his chin on my shoulder. "What's that about?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the cover, ignoring my indignant protests. "_The Assorted Gems from the Underwater Kingdoms,"_ he read out loud. "What in Merlin does that mean?"

"It's a collections of stories from mermen," I said, pinching his hand. He released the book with a yelp. "Some of them are legends, some are just parodies of the wizard world, and some are tales of encounters with underwater beasts."

As expected, he looked interested in that last bit. "Like the giant squid at Hogwarts that Mum told us about?"

"Try something along the lines of the Hydra, James."

"Wicked!" he exclaimed, nudging me over and wedging himself into the armchair. Sadly, it was large enough to fit us both and still have some room left over. "Go to a story with a Hydra, Rina. Oh, are there any Krakens?"

I sighed, but obliged, flipping through the pages. "A Kraken is a giant squid, James," I reminded him. "Just... not as tamed as the Hogwarts one."

"Details," he waved aside impatiently. "Now read!"

So demanding. But then again, he wouldn't be James if he wasn't. Shaking my head fondly, I started reading, all the while thinking that I would miss him while he was off at Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter 4

The summer following James's first year at Hogwarts, I was torn between sobbing in relief that he was returning home and jumping out the window from the third story because he was. In the end, I decided to stay put and read some more, enjoying the fresh air and warm breeze in the back garden, more specifically in the gazebo that Dad had surprised me with for my eleventh birthday the month before. My Hogwarts letter had, as predicted, come on the dot, a Barn Owl swooping in the open windows and dropping the letter on the coffee table before taking flight again. Immediately, we responded in the affirmative, sending the reply via the family Eagle Owl, Orestes.

The hectic shopping out of the way, I was relaxing on the small bench out in front of the manor, admiring the clear blue sky when I heard an all-too-familiar voice that had been noticeably absent for a year.

"RINA! I'M HOME!"

Leaping to my feet, I rushed into James's outstretched arms, squeezing him tightly. "Welcome back, James," I laughed, feeling more childish and free than I had in a long time. "How was Hogwarts?"

"Excellent," he said happily. We smiled at each other for a bit before he suddenly announced, "Rina, I'm in love."

I blinked. "Sorry, come again?"

"I said I'm in love," he repeated, eyes twinkling madly. "There's this girl in my year named Lily Evans, I probably wrote about her, remember?"

I nodded, secretly smirking. So the epic love story begins. "Ah, the Muggleborn redhead? You're in love with her?"

"Yes!" He nodded, looking ecstatic. "She's all fire and claws, Rina, it's absolutely stunning how she can just walk away and leave me wordless. She's incredibly smart, and pretty, and just so very _Lily_ and I really think it's love!"

I patted his cheek affectionately, noticing with mild surprise that he'd grown yet again. "I'm sure she's brilliant, James. Does she like you back?"

"Er." He looked sheepish. I bit back a knowing smirk. If I remembered correctly, Lily didn't even give James the time of day until after her fall-out with Snape in fifth year. "Well... she might... hate me a little?"

I arched a brow. "A little."

"Alright, she hates my guts," he confessed. "But she'll come around sooner or later, I know she will." Yup. Try six years from now, brother. "She's going to marry me!"

"Don't you think it's a bit too soon to think of marriage?" I asked, concealing my amusement like a pro. "You're only twelve, after all. Get through school first, then think about getting hitched, yeah?"

He stuck his tongue out at me, but swept me up into a hug anyway. "Welcome back Mum, Dad," I greeted them over James's shoulder. They'd been watching our little reunion with broad smiles and gave me a little wave when I acknowledged their presence at last.

The Potter family made our way into the house, the parents falling back and us kids chatting about Hogwarts, and soon we were eating dinner, then getting ready for bed. Seeing as it was James's first night back, he was allowed to sleep with me so we could stay up all night discussing the wonders of his first year.

"Tell me more about your friends," I whispered, slipping in next to him in his bed. While my own bed - and room, for that matter - followed a blue, white and black scheme, my brother's room consisted of red, gold and orange colors. His bed was bigger than mine, too.

He snuggled closer and grinned, moonlight reflecting off his teeth. "Well, there's Sirius," he started, smirking a bit at the memory of his dear friend, "I think you'd like him, Rina, he's a troublemaker and a rebel through and through, and has a wicked sense of humor. He's kind of our cousin through mom, distant, but he's the only Black to be in Gryffindor!"

"True," I agreed, "Mum was in Slytherin too, wasn't she?"

"Makes you wonder how Dad and Mum met or fell in love," James muttered. I shook my head, deciding not to tell him that our parents had been two halves of an arranged marriage. It was just lucky for us that they actually fell in love along the way. "Sirius Black is fun and a wonderful pranking partner - I'd say he's my best mate."

I made a soft noise of derision. "A troublemaker, rebel and a prankster? And you think I'd like him?"

"... He's nice once you get used to him."

"I'm sure. Continue."

He pouted a little but carried on. "After Sirius is Remus Lupin," he said, quietly so our parents wouldn't overhear. I was pretty sure they knew we were awake though, because what else would we do other than talk the night away? "He's a quiet one, real bookworm, smart as hell too. He took a little more persuading before he started opening up, but now he's a really good mate, even if he has to leave school a lot because his mom's so sick."

Right. That had been Lupin's cover story in order to hide his lycanthropy.

"A quiet, shy bookworm, huh?" I repeated thoughtfully. "I think I'll actually like _this_ one much more than your other friend."

"Oh come on, Sirius isn't a bad guy, Rina!" James looked at me with wide hazel eyes. Dammit, the puppy eyes. "Him and Remus and Peter will be coming over for the summer. Be nice to them, okay?"

Peter. That cowardly rat, no pun intended. "Peter?" I asked, forcing myself not to sound too repulsed. Remember, the rat saved Harry's life at the cost of his own in the seventh book. Calm, girl, calm. "Who's Peter?"

"Oh another friend of mine," James answered easily. "A bit timid if you ask me, but he's got his heart in the right place. Peter's also a bit of a crybaby, but that might be because he'd been picked on so much before."

I snorted. "A timid crybaby? Doesn't seem like your type, brother mine."

"What type?" He said, adorably confused.

I shrugged. "Well, let's see; you've got the Black boy -" ("His name's Sirius!") " - who seems to be the perfect second in command for your merry band of troublemakers, maybe come up with a few ideas for pranks himself."

"True," James agreed, nodding. "What about Remus?"

"He's the bookworm, the intellect, the brain of your little group, the one who actually figures out the way to pull of your ideas." I snickered at his expression. "I'm not calling you stupid James, but you have to agree that sometimes you're a bit impulsive and don't fully think things through before jumping into something." Like deciding to take on a madman out for your son's blood without a single weapon, I added mentally. Frowning, I pushed the thought out of my mind. I was here for a reason, James and Lily's deaths would be avoided with me here.

James sighed. "Alright, fine, you got me. Anything else?"

"That's it," I finished. "So what I don't get is, why Peter? He doesn't sound like a typical prankster to me."

My brother pondered the question. "Hm... to be honest, I don't really know why either," he said at length, "but when he was being picked on, I just couldn't stand there and do nothing, could I?"

"No," I murmured, remembering the supposed misery my brother and his infamous band of friends had provided for one Severus Snape, "I suppose you couldn't."

"Rina?" James asked, peering at me worriedly. "You sound weird."

I reached up and flicked his forehead. "Thanks so much, James," I said wryly. "That warms the heart, really. Sorry if I'm a bit sleepy."

"Oh," he muttered, sheepish. "Sorry."

I scoffed and burrowed into the warmth of the silk covers and was out like a light.

* * *

A moment later, I opened my eyes to see the Potter library on the first floor, a cozy fire flickering in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room. Stepping over to the worn dragonhide couch near the massive stained-glass windows, I took a seat and waited for something I wasn't sure of.

"It's been a while," a woman's voice greeted. I knew that voice. Turning sharply, I probed the shadows cast by the fire with my eyes.

Sure enough, the familiar form of a beautiful young woman stepped out from the darkness, this time donned in a casual white peasant blouse and flowing violet skirt. She looked like some kind of exotic gypsy, and the glittering hairpiece interwoven in the curls of her hair only supported the look. "Hello, Heidi."

"Toni," I corrected. I blinked. It'd been a long time since I'd done that. Hang on a sec. "YOU!" I hissed, jumping to my feet. "You kicked me down that scary as hell hole!"

Aella shrugged, looking irritably graceful and perfect. "A little encouragement was needed," she said, drifting closer to the fireplace and gazing into the interchanging hues of orange and red of the flames.

My temper spiked - coincidentally, so did the fire, flaring brighter and reaching higher, licking along the lengths of the blackened bricks before calming. "Encouragement is clapping like a retarded seal and cheering 'You can do it!', not forcefully pushing someone down a thousand-foot-long ditch and therefore into another life," I snapped. Looking at her made me too mad, so I glanced around the familiar scene of the library instead. "So? Why're we in the library?"

Aella laughed softly. "The Potter library? It may look like it, but no, Heidi, we're in your subconscious mind. If you wish to use the term 'soul' then that's fine by me."

"Bullshit," I said waspishly. It usually took a lot for me to get angry, but this person had not only held back the answers I wanted, but had _shoved me down a dark hole_. Insensitive much? "If this is my soul, why the hell would it be a library?"

She shrugged, running her slim fingers over the spines of the tomes neatly placed in the bookshelves. "One's soul shifts to ease the mind and to do that, it often adopts the appearance of the place that he or she feels the most at ease in. In your case, the Potter library is your safe haven, so your soul arranged itself to look like it. If you look closely, though, there are a few notable differences."

I didn't want to listen to her, but my eyes strayed to the room despite myself. And just as she'd said, there were some differences so subtle that I hadn't noticed them before she'd basically told me to open my eyes and stop being so freaking blind. In a nicer manner.

For one, the portraits of previous Potter family members had been replaced by odd scenes and images, some that were vague and hazy to me, but some were like the one I found myself standing in front of, eyes drinking in the pictured moment.

"The day your brother gifted you with that pet rabbit of yours," Aella murmured, having crept up on me while I'd been distracted by the painting. "Vega, was it? You wept so bitterly when it died so many years ago."

"I didn't cry," I retorted. "... Much." Actually, I'd locked myself in my room and refused to come out for two days, being force-fed by the house elves, bawling my eyes out, albeit quietly. I'd driven Mum mad with worry then, and had finally surfaced from my self-exile to be crushed in my brother's arms. After we'd shed a few more tears, he'd presented me with another rabbit, this time properly from a wizarding pet store, pure white. Selene had been a good replacement, but not quite like Vega, the random wild rabbit James had somehow managed to catch at age seven to give to his younger sister.

Blinking away the tears welling up again, I turned to Aella, the anger fully drained out of my system. I never did like the feeling of rage, it made me so very tired, even in my life as Heidi. "Alright," I said, quietly. The surge of anger upon seeing this mysterious figure had dissipated, leaving me weary and tired. "Alright. Let's talk."

* * *

"So why exactly are you here?" I asked, pouring her a cup of coffee.

We were seated on two comfortable armchairs facing each other across the glassy surface of a small round table, and I was serving coffee rather than tea because hey, it was my soul and I wanted some coffee damn it. As if hearing my thoughts, the library had magically conjured up a small connected kitchen, and here I was, handing her a cup of creamy coffee. I blame the urge to do so at all on all those etiquette lessons from Mother.

Aella sipped her coffee and looked thoughtfully at her sandal-clad feet, ankles lined with gold trinkets. "Earlier, talking to your brother at night," she started at last, "you thought something along the lines of saving James and Lily's lives due to your knowledge of the entire series." She looked up, meeting my eyes with her own. "Am I right?"

"You are correct," I confirmed, confused as to why she was mentioning this.

She set down the cup, lips pursed. I didn't like the sudden silence. "Heidi," she began gently, "I'm afraid Lily and James will die whether you are here or not."

"... What?"

She winced. "Even if you are here, Heidi," she clarified, "you will not be able to save the lives of your brother and his wife in the future. You were reborn into this world for the sake of saving other people, but the deaths of Lily and James are crucial. I'm sorry."

"So you want me to stand and watch as my brother and the love of his life are murdered," I said, feeling sick. "When I could clearly change it? You said so yourself when you forced me into this life that I could make Harry's life better! Now you're telling me that I can't?"

She looked me dead in the eye, until I had to look away from those piercing blues. "Think, Heidi. Harry thwarted death several times because of the protection Lily's death offered him. Her love for him was so great that she willingly sacrificed her life for her son, allowing him to survive not only that dreadful night on Halloween, but the incident with the Philosopher's Stone." Aella was more serious than I'd ever seen her before. "Should you take away that protection by saving Lily's life, Harry will die."

"But what if someone else died for him?" I blurted, mind racing for solutions, desperate to find a way to ensure Harry and his parents a happy ending. "If... if someone loved him just as much, was willing to die to keep him safe, then... then wouldn't the same thing happen? Then Harry would be able to have his parents and still be alive, right?"

She gazed at me with an unreadable expression on her face. "And who would take Lily's place?" she asked quietly. We both knew the answer though.

I swallowed. "Me," I croaked.

Aella drew in a deep breath before exhaling loudly, closing her eyes. "And do you think death is the only solution?"

I forced myself to think. Think, remember every detail of the series. "... The only reason James and Lily died was because Sirius had switched his position as Secret-Keeper with Pettigrew in secret, and the rat told Voldemort everything. So... say, if someone else if Secret-Keeper, or Sirius doesn't change places with Pettigrew, then... then..."

"It would only delay the inevitable," she said gently. "Nothing will change the fact that Harry Potter is the child of the prophecy, which means that no, you cannot go off and kill the Dark Lord for him."

I scowled. "But... wasn't Neville Longbottom also a candidate?"

The look she sent me was enough to make me flush in shame. "Would you really wish the cruelties of Harry's life upon another, just to preserve your own perfect family? I thought you a better woman, Heidi."

"Alright, fine, forget I ever said anything," I muttered. Groaning, I started to pace, furiously brainstorming for an idea. "Well, if everything must happen according to the prophecy, then Harry must be marked by Voldemort with that horrid scar, a sign that they are equals. And... in order to do that, Harry needs the protection of someone else, like his mother... right." I glowered at her. "Call me dumb, but I honestly can't think of any other way than to die in Lily's place."

She sighed. "Harry Potter as you know him was shaped by the adversities of his life as an orphan," she stated. "In enduring his Muggle relatives' despicable treatment, believing himself to be alone in the world, he was able to give everything he had to protect those he held dear, his friends."

"Oh no." No way. She couldn't be saying...? "Are you... are you telling me that my nephew must grow up as an orphan, miserable in those wretched Muggles' house until Hagrid knocks down the door on his eleventh birthday?"

The fire in the fireplace burned far brighter, hotter than ever before. "If you think I'll agree to this madness, I think you should go get your head checked. Leave my nephew alone and unhappy when I could do something? Like _hell_ I'll do that."

Aella looked at me, pained. "Heidi -"

"No!" Throwing my hands up in the air, I stalked past her, coming to a stop before a family portrait of us four Potters. James was laughing freely, arms thrown over my shoulders, blatantly dismissing my frown as I tried to concentrate on the book in my hands. Mum and Dad were smiling at the scene, Dad's arm wrapped around her waist. My heart clenched. Deny Harry of this...? "If Harry is raised well, by caring family and friends, then he'll have a better fighting chance in the second war. If I remember correctly, it was only due to a bizarre combination of dumb luck and instinct that saved his neck so many times. I'll raise him, or James can, whatever, and we'll teach him battle spells. He can fight better."

She ran a hand over her face, seeming older than usual. "Heidi... you can't change fate. Your role is to stand by and watch events unfold as they should while offering support and occasionally taking care of the small fries in the sidelines." She held up a hand to stop me from interrupting. "And even if you _do_ take Lily's place... well, believe me when I say this, but there is no love on Earth stronger and purer than a mother's love for her own. Even as his aunt, you won't be able to provide Harry the proper shield he requires."

"Well, that sucks for you then," I said, staring into the flames. "To hell with what you and fate say, I'm taking things into my own hands. You want me to do nothing when I can make a difference? Bullshit. I'm going to do things my way, see if you can stop me."

With one last withering glare her way, I swiped a hand through the air and the library rippled, fading into black.


	5. Chapter 5

Only a few weeks after James's homecoming, I was already wondering just why on earth I'd ever missed him. Those days of peace and quiet, filled with so many wonderful books, seemed like a pleasant dream I was desperate to delve back into.

"RINA!" My brother yelled from the first floor, standing impatiently at the foot of the winding staircase with his hands on his hips. "HURRY UP!"

Slapping a hand over my forehead, I dragged it down, desperately wishing I had enough arm strength to lob something into his face. "Why," I groaned, staring mournfully down at the pile of books I'd been eager to dive into. "Merlin, _why_."

"CARINA!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I snapped, throwing off the covers and hopping down from the bed, heading toward the closet with one last wistful glance at the books. Mum had surprised me with the lot on the day my brother had returned from Hogwarts, babbling of Gryffindor superiority (when Mum wasn't anywhere near) and boasting of his many achievements in his first year. And, when our parents weren't paying attention, of the wonders of one Lily Evans. It was sweet at first, but quickly grated on my nerves - after all, one could only take so much of how perfectly red and fiery Lily's hair was before wanting to hurl something at the wall.

I could practically sense James's impatience in the air and quickly threw on a green blouse and jean shorts, staggering to the dresser to yank a comb through the tangled mess I'd sloppily thrown up in a ponytail in the morning. Thankfully, Nelly had popped in when I was tearing up because I'd pulled free another snare in the locks, and after reprimanding me she snapped her fingers, and POOF it was styled up into some ridiculously complicated hairdo consisting of two or three braids. I don't even know.

Thanking her fervently, I grabbed a white button-up sweater and flew down the stairs, shouting down my brother as I tugged on a pair of red tennis shoes. We were going to meet his friends from Hogwarts at the Leaky Cauldron, after which they would be coming back to the Potter Manor for a two-week stay. Then the Marauders - as I called them inside my head - and I would be leaving for Hogwarts together. I honestly couldn't care less, but James was thrilled beyond thrilled and had been harping at me for hours before Mum had shooed me off to etiquette lessons with Madam Verdente. For once, I was grateful to learn about the best ways to serve tea and biscuits than listen to my brother.

"Finally!" The brother in question exclaimed, ceasing his foot-tapping as soon as he saw me, out of breath and cross as I was. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the family room, where Mum and Dad were already waiting beside the giant fireplace, a velvet pouch clasped in Mum's hand. "We've been waiting for _ages!"_

"Oh, really?" I grumbled, fixing my sweater. James just blew a raspberry before accepting a handful of Floo powder, dashing inside the fireplace and shouting "TO DIAGON ALLEY!" He disappeared in a vortex of emerald flames.

Dad went next, patting me sympathetically on the head as he passed, and then I was up. "Diagon Alley," I droned, closing my eyes tightly as the flames engulfed me. Travel by Floo powder had never been particularly enjoyable for me, as much as James got high off the dizzying rush as he did. I much preferred brooms and pegasi, thank you very much.

When I opened my eyes, barely having caught myself before I'd fallen straight on my face, James was surrounded by three boys his age, laughing and talking uproariously. The one with the shaggy black hair roughly pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck was obviously Sirius Black, the closest to my brother. His gray eyes, much lighter and brighter than mine, were flashing with open amusement as he talked with his best mate, one arm slung over James's shoulder casually.

Remus Lupin was easy to spot as well, with tired features and somewhat dull robes, but the smile on his lips was genuine, as was the glint of affection in his green eyes as he looked upon the rowdy boys he had come to befriend. Despite the effects of his lycanthropy, such as the constant aura of weariness and haggard appearance, he _was_ on the better looking side.

And finally... Peter Pettigrew. He was small and round with watery blue eyes framed by flat blond hair, and he gazed at my brother with such awe and adoration that it was hard to believe that this boy would later betray his closest friends to the Dark Lord. I tried not to curl my lip at the thought; for here was a person selfish and cowardly enough to hand over the very people who had protected and cared for him in his adolescent years to a sociopath, damning my nephew to a life of hardship and loneliness.

"Rina!" James was waving, beckoning me to come closer, so with a long-suffering sigh I did. All four boys, save perhaps Pettigrew, were taller than me, and not for the first time I cursed my short stature. As Heidi I had always been one of the tallest girls in school, so being so short in this life was more than a little irritating.

James slipped out from under Sirius's loose hold and walked up to me, lightly pushing me forward, placing his hands on my shoulder so I couldn't make a run for it. "Mates, this is my baby sister," he declared, prodding my cheek with one finger. I tried to bite it, but he drew away, chuckling. "Say hello, baby sister."

"Hello," I said blandly.

James frowned at me. I sighed, shrugging off his hands and stepping back, dipping into a curtsey much better than the one I'd given the Rosier brat a year ago. "Greetings and salutations, my name is Carina Potter, little sister of Heir James Potter."

A quick scan of their faces almost had me smirking, as their reactions were so different from each other's. Sirius looked faintly annoyed with the typical pureblood greeting, which didn't surprise me as James had said that he was a rebel. Seeing as he was the first Black to be Sorted into Gryffindor, I had to agree. Remus looked slightly uncomfortable with the poshness of it all; maybe he was a half-blood? The books hadn't mentioned much except that Greyback had mauled him due to his father's refusal to obey the Dark's wishes. I thought it likely that his father was magical while his mother wasn't.

Pettigrew just seemed awed. I held back a snort. Of course he would be, that little rat.

"Rina," my brother sighed, nudging me. I caught myself before I could topple onto the admittedly disgusting dirt floor. Who knows what sorts of things had walked there? "Stop being so stiff, yeah?"

I shrugged and immediately crossed my arms. "As you wish, brother mine." Looking the boys dead in the eye, I waved half-heartedly. "I'm Carina Potter, your mate's little sister. I'll be a Hogwarts first year after this summer."

"Pleasure," Sirius said flippantly. I narrowed my eyes. The books made him out to be oh-so-wonderful and charming, a fun-loving man, but the Sirius Black here was just plain rude and arrogant. Insensitive mutt. "Sirius Black."

I forced a smile, and quickly turned to the others before I could succumb to the sudden urge telling me to deck him a new one. Lupin smiled warmly, and shook my hand. "Remus Lupin," he said quietly. As I'd predicted, I liked him - he seemed like a gentleman. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I replied, smiling genuinely at him. Then I turned to the last one.

"H-hello," Pettigrew said. I don't think his voice is normally so high-pitched. Despite myself, I found myself softening at his obvious nervousness and waved at him.

"Peter Pettigrew, was it?" I asked, smiling. Maybe I could change the future by changing _this_ little rodent first.

_**Nice try,**_ Aella's voice said, from somewhere inside my head. I was so surprised that I almost screamed. _**We'll be having a lot more direct contact - heaven knows you need my guidance.**_

_I don't need it_, I growled back. _Now shut up._

_**How vulgar**_, she tutted, but her presence ebbed away nonetheless.

James, though he seemed as carefree as usual, was relieved that I more or less approved of his friends, I could tell - hey, after living with him for eleven years, you're bound to be in tune with your only sibling's thoughts and such. He threw himself over my back, almost sending me tumbling, and teased, "Awwww, is little Rina shy around big brother's mates? Eh?"

"Hilarious," I deadpanned, jabbing an elbow into his stomach and relishing in his grunt of pain. "I love your sense of humor, James. It's so brilliant that I forgot to laugh."

"Carina! James!" Mum called, moving forward while brushing the soot from her robes. "Come now, we'll get Rina's shopping done first before going back home, alright? Charlus, take the boys and have some fun. We'll meet at the Leaky Cauldron at... three, yes? Excellent."

James paused, staring at us with a perplexed frown. "Shopping?" he echoed, eyes flickering between a resigned me and our mother. "I thought you finished her Hogwarts shopping when I was still at school?"

"Yes, James, the essentials, and a few books, but not the more important ones," I told him. "Like my wand, or a familiar, for one."

"And some more clothes," Mum cut in. She took my hand and led me out of the dingy shop. "Have fun with your friends, James! And behave, will you?" Then we were out, but I still caught a glimpse of my brother's evil plotting face before he turned to Sirius with a devilish grin.

I scoffed. James Potter? Behave? Not likely.

* * *

We hit Ollivander's first.

"Mr. Ollivander?" Mum called, peering into the shadows, presumably searching for the old wandmaker. "Mr. Ollivander, are you here?"

"One moment, please!" a faint voice called back, and soon an old man was making his way to us, picking through the cluttered floor between the shelves with practiced ease. He paused in wiping his hands with a rag, pale eyes fixated on my own. "My word," he said, blinking, "I suppose you're the young Miss Potter I've heard so much from Flourish?"

I pinked. Indeed, I had visited Flourish and Blotts so much that by now the regulars and the owners of the bookstore were familiar with me. "Yes, sir," I said politely, discretely tugging my hand out of my mother's. I bobbed into a small curtsey, wondering if I'd have to spend half my life doing this for every random person I met. "Carina Potter, younger sister of Heir James Potter, pleasure to meet you."

"And delightfully well-mannered at that," he said, smiling briefly. "Far more reserved than your brother - pliable mahogany, eleven inches. Favorable for Transfiguration, rather impressive given how difficult that particular subject can be." Ollivander refocused on me. "Go on, dear, hold out your wand arm."

Having read Harry's own reasoning when I was Heidi, I quickly raised my right arm, and wasn't all too surprised when the measuring tape went straight to work on its own. When you're raised in a pureblood house, such acts of magic are considered part of the norm.

"Every wand chooses the wizard, of course," Ollivander was saying, looking through the vast collection of wands stacked in the shelves and occasionally spilling out to start a new pile of the dusty wooden floor.

I nodded. "I've read a bit on wandlore," I told him, relieved when the tape was finally satisfied and drifted over to the counter, plopping onto the surface unceremoniously. "It seems fascinating, but helplessly complex at the same time. How do you know which core to insert into a certain wand in the making, for example?"

The man seemed surprised, but broke out into a wider grin. "Ah, trade secret my dear, trade secret." He gave a little 'aha' and pulled a long box from underneath a large mound of boxes, some empty and some with their precious cargo within. "Let's try this one, shall we now? Ten and a quarter inches, alder and unicorn hair."

I held the long thin rod for a split second, but as soon as I did it was snatched out of my hand. Ollivander shook his head and stuffed it back into the box, selecting another one. "Here, try this - eight inches, oak and dragon heartstring - oh heavens, no!" he cried, quickly taking it back. "No no no, that won't do at all... hm..."

I hoped to whatever deities that existed that I wouldn't take as long as Harry had.

We went through about a dozen more - "Sixteen inches, apple and - NO!" "Eleven and a sixth inches, pine and dragon - Oh! No no!" "Aspen and phoenix, nine and a - oh dear, not that one -" "Blackthorn and phoenix - nope, not that one either, eh?" - until, finally, just when I was ready to ditch the place and run screaming into a wall, he pulled out a dark red box. Immediately, the feeling in the air changed, turning more somber and something else that brought to mind hushed rituals and secrets.

"Ah..." Ollivander murmured, fingering the box gently. "This one's been alone for quite a while... made by my father, this." I gulped. That piece of wood must be ages old then. "Twelve and an eighth inches, rowan, unicorn tail plucked from an especially beautiful mare..." He held it out to me reverently.

The second my fingers made contact with the gleaming creamy wood, a rush of warmth shot through my body, rattling the beaded hair ornaments as well as some of the objects lying around the shop. A jet of blue flames flew from the pointed tip and danced freely before fading into thin wisps of smoke. I stared at the wand, wide-eyed - that was absolutely _brilliant_.

The wand itself was elegant: the handle consisted of swirls, similar to vines, carved into the wood, and at the very base was extraordinarily detailed, fashioned in the likeness of a lotus bud.

"Ah, there's a good match," Ollivander said, nodding sagely. I handed the wand over reluctantly so he could box it. "Rowan is especially suitable for strong defense and provides some of the best protections magics to be observed. The wood has long been associated with vision and healing, in rare cases even spirits - users of my rowan wands often have a strong desire to protect their dear ones." He peered at me with large, misty eyes. "I'd say you'd make a fine protector as you mature, Miss Potter."

I smiled back warily. "I most certainly hope so."

Soon enough he was bowing us out of his shop, murmuring farewells. But the faint whisper, slipped into my ear when Mum hadn't been looking, was ricocheting around my head like an incessant fly.

_"Best of luck," he'd said softly, "and yes... we can expect a great witch out of you, Miss Potter. Great witch indeed, though your strengths lay in defense and healing rather than battle. Yes..."_

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want an owl, sweetheart?" Mum asked, eyeing the row of cages hanging from the ceiling. We were in Magical Menagerie and I was adamant that I get a cat rather than an owl. Don't get me wrong, I love the birds, but why bother getting two when I could always bully James into letting me borrow Orpheus?

I said so to my mother, and she shook her head, lips quirked up into a smile. "Yes, but what if your brother's sent Orpheus off to send a message? What will you do then?"

"Then I'll use the Hogwarts school owls," I shrugged, crouching down to scrutinize the cages that lined the floor. "And when I'm at home, well, we have a whole Potter Owlery filled with all sorts of those birds, why should I get one of my own? Seems like a waste, doesn't it?"

I didn't tell her that I'd always wanted a cat, even in my previous life, where my family had owned two dogs. My other father had been allergic to cats, so I would always have to settle for visiting my friends' houses to pamper _their_ kitty cats.

A cage almost hidden in the shadows piqued my interest, and when I looked inside, two sets of bright blue eyes blinked back at me. Two cats in one cage?

Apparently I'd voiced this thought out loud because the assistant manager of the shop came over from where she'd been feeding a Brown Owl. "Yes," she said, brushing stray strands of curly blond hair from her eyes. "Those two are from the same litter, but for some reason they refuse to part from each other for long. And no one wants to buy them together, so..." She trailed off, shrugging.

"Oh," I said, looking at the cats. "May I see them?"

The woman looked surprised. "Er, of course." She unlocked the cage and scooped them out, placing one in my arms.

Oh Merlin. These babies were beautiful.

The one cradled in my arms was a sleek gray tabby, and its companion was a brown tabby, white underbelly showing as it wriggled in the woman's hold. It wasn't as if they were ugly or misbehaved either, but just because they came as a set people chose not to take them home. Ha, no, I don't think so.

"We'll take them," I announced, scratching the gray behind one ear.

Mum looked exasperated, but complied. While she was figuring out the price with the lady at the counter, I looked at the younger woman. "So are they male or female?" The encounter with Vega the rabbit flashed to mind, James's frustrated expression causing me to bite my lip to hold back the sniggers.

"Both female," she said, digging around for a travelling cage. "No names, though - we usually call them the Twins, and that's it."

No names. How cold.

I figured James could help me figure out the names so I shrugged and handed her the cat so she could place them in the cage. "Thanks, er..."

"Annalise," she provided helpfully. "Annalise Sterling. Are you a Hogwarts student?"

"Will be this year." I cooed at the sight of Brown licking Gray's cheek, like an older sister would to the younger. "Why, were you?"

She grinned. "Yep - Hufflepuff, graduated with perfect scores on my Care of Magical Creatures exams." That caught my attention; why was someone like _that_ working here when she could be at the Ministry?

"You're wondering why I'm stuck here, aren't you?" Annalise had caught my train of thought. "Well, let's just say that there was a bad accident with an occamy transfer and... I was injured." She coughed. "So I decided that I better stick to living safe."

"Good choice," I told her, lugging the cage up by the handle. "Always keep your health your first priority - no sense jumping into dangers like a blockhead when you can be doing something more productive elsewhere."

Annalise smiled. "Thanks."

"Anytime," I answered, nodding before making my way to Mum, who promptly cast a levitation charm on the heavy cage to spare me of my burden.

Shopping, finally over.

* * *

James stared at the two felines staring back at him.

"What," he started slowly, "are _those?"_

I huffed. "_These_," I said equally slowly, as if talking to a mentally retarded person, "are called _cats_, James. Say hello to the cats."

He shot me an irritated look. "Knock it off, Rina," he grumbled, "I just want to know why you have two."

"Things happen, brother mine," I replied airily, shoving the cage into his arms. He staggered back at the weight of it. "Now be a dear and carry it for me, alright? Can't have them ending up in the States by accident in the Floo." I paused while heading to the fireplace. "Oh, and I'll need your help with the naming."

"_You_ carry it," he complained, but still held onto the cage. Sirius leaned in and whispered loudly, "_Whipped!"_

I shot him an unimpressed look even as my brother squawked and shot back a volley of insults at his best mate, who just smirked and whistled innocently. So not believable.

"Potter Manor," I sighed, screwing my eyes shut as I tossed the powder at my feet. I was praying to the powers that having the Marauders under the same roof wouldn't be as taxing as I suspected it would be.

* * *

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK! GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE, YOU PRAT!"

"NOT ON YOUR LIFE, YOU LITTLE TWIT!"

Seething, I skidded around the corner, coming to a stop at the railing of the second floor, scanning what I could see of the lower story for a glimpse of all-too-familiar black hair and mocking steel eyes.

"Arrogant son of a -" I swore, pushing away from the railing and thundering down the stairsm bellowing, "JAMES!"

My brother made his appearance by slamming his bedroom door open, rubbing his eyes with one palm and glaring at me with eyes still hazy with sleep. "What _now?!"_ he demanded, sagging against the wall and basically just struggling to stay awake. "It's bloody eight in the morning, Carina!"

Rewind: The reason the usually hyperactive morning-loving James was now reduced to this grumpy sleep addict was due to a combination of far too much chocolate the night before, leading to a nasty crash and burn situation, and the endless days he spent at school waking up earlier than he was used to so he could pull off some of his more infamous pranks.

I growled and glared at him accusingly. "Your _best mate_ Transfigured my cats into giant pumpkins, and I can't undo them!"

He blinked drowsily. "But, Rina," he protested, "we can't do magic outside of school, there's no way Sirius would have been dumb enough to do that -"

"James," I interrupted, staring at him with palpable disbelief, "Sometimes, I sincerely wonder at your level of intellect." Ignoring his indignant cry, I waved a hand at the mansion in general. "The Ministry only detects underage magic in places where magic isn't all too common. Muggleborns would be snatched up in an instant, or even half-bloods... a vast amount of purebloods too. But for elite purebloods like us, Blacks and Malfoys, we live in ancestral homes where magic is so great that it's impossible to detect the Trace."

He looked thunderstruck and very much wide awake. "You mean," he said, gawking, "that all this time and I could have been using magic, and no one would have known?"

"Only if Mum and Dad don't catch you," I corrected him breezily. "But yes - how else do you think I've been practicing all the spells in my textbooks?"

James started swearing at his newfound stupidity, and even though I was highly entertained I cleared my throat. "So, since he's _your_ dratted friend, _you_ take responsibility! After all, Transfiguration _is_ your specialty... or, so you've said."

"Fine!" he snapped, accepting the hidden challenge as predicted. "Let's go see your stupid cats."

"Pumpkins," I reminded him sullenly.

He made a vague sound of derision. "That's pretty good of him," he admitted, then cowered as my nostrils flared. "Right, right, de-pumpkin the cats. Yes ma'am."

I trailed behind him, resisting the urge to strangle something, preferrably the eldest son of the head of the Black family. I knew this was a bad idea. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a blur of black.

"BLACK!" I roared, diving after him, thanking the heavens that Mum and Dad had decided to attend a dear friend's birthday ball and had left us in the care of the house elves, who were wisely staying out of the entire ordeal. "MANGY MUTT, GET BACK HERE!"

"Not again," James groaned from in front. "Why can't you two get along?" He was ignored as I threw myself after the annoying brat, firing a hex that missed him by a breath. Black, in turn, responded with a jet of blue which I ducked, having recognized the tickling charm.

My brother buried his face in his hands. "Why."


	6. Chapter 6

The Maurauders and I stood together, watching silently as the hideous vase Augusta Longbottom had sent our parents teetered on the edge of the settee before falling to its doom, smashing to itty bitty pieces on the floor. The hysterical giggling of the portraits sounded deafeningly loud in the quiet.

"Well," James spoke up, effectively ending the silence. "I hope you're proud of yourselves, Carina, Sirius."

I winced. Normally, I was the one reprimanding him for his misdemeanors in that voice, despite being the younger sibling, but... this time, there was no denying that I was at fault. Along with one particular Heir Black, who was studying the carnage with speculative eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

Remus coughed. "Would... someone please be kind enough to inform me as to why we're staring at the destructive product of Sirius and Carina?" Peter just looked stunned by the mess overall.

James ran his hands over his face and shook his head. "I'm going flying," he muttered, stalking out the front door. "If Mum and Dad find out, I am not at blame." With an uncertain glance at the havoc we'd wrecked, Peter scurried out after him, leaving me with Remus and Black.

Remus glanced at me with an apologetic smile dancing on his lips. "I'd love to stay and help," he said quietly, "but somehow I think this falls upon your shoulders. Have fun cleaning it up, you two - Mr. and Mrs. Potter will be back by nine thirty, which gives you approximately five hours." He walked over to the door, patting Sirius's back as he went. The young werewolf paused at the exit, sweeping his gaze around the room, lingering on the portrait of my great-uncle Richard, who was cursing up a storm in between mad cackles as his frame clattered to the carpet. Remus winced. "And... I think James has forbidden the house elves from helping by now. Good luck, and try not to kill each other." With that, he was gone.

So there we stood, Sirius Black and myself, a tense silence settling over us. With lack of conversation, or will to start one for that matter, my eyes roved over the colossal mess, impressed despite myself. What had started as his idea of a prank with the cats had extended over the first week into a fierce rivalry, and this was the fruit of our efforts.

I strode over to Great-Uncle Richard and picked up the frame, offering him a weak smile as he glared at me from under bushy white brows, waving his walking stick wildly even as he laughed uncontrollably. Fishing for my wand in my pocket, I muttered, "Finite incantatem." Glancing over my shoulder at Black, who was staring at me with unreadable eyes, I humphed.

"Well?" I demanded. "Aren't you going to help?" Without waiting for a reply I refocused on Great-Uncle Richard, scowling when I saw that he was still laughing (though the glare had intensified) as a result of being hit by a cheering charm.

"You're doing it wrong," a voice abruptly said. I dropped the portrait with a yelp, turning to the left to find Sirius Black frowning at his feet. He looked up and when he saw that I was staring at him, he scowled. "The spell, you're doing it wrong. Add more flick to the wrist at the first _t_ in _incantatem_."

I eyed him suspiciously, but followed his instructions. To my surprise, it worked, and Great-Uncle Richard took the time to lecture me on how a _proper_ pureblood lady ought to behave. I tuned him out easily; when living with James Potter, you become a pro at some things. Like ignoring someone all the while looking as if you're hanging onto every word, for one. "Thanks," I muttered.

I moved onto Ancestor Elizabeth, who was singing and glaring at the same time. I cringed; this one was my fault. "Sorry," I whispered, pulling another _Finite incantatem_. Elizabeth huffed and repositioned her armchair to face the background of the painting, sticking her nose up in the air. Her tiny lapdog barked at me warningly before leaping up onto its mistress's lap.

Surprisingly, Sirius was doing some damage control too, when I looked back at him. So we worked in silence for a good portion of an hour, him telling me the right way to do some spells I hadn't fully mastered or learned yet, without the usual snark or arrogance. We reversed our spells one by one until by silence accord we took a break, sitting across from each other on two separate cushioned chairs.

I was mentally thanking Aella for mercilessly driving me to learn as many spells as possible before Hogwarts started, for it had made the clean-up duty so much easier than it could have been, when Sirius suddenly spoke up.

"You know..." he said, hesitant, before looking off to the side awkwardly. "For a brat, you're pretty good at magic."

I couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult, so I decided not to focus on that. "Well, I read for a reason," I said wryly. "But thank you, I suppose - you're not too shabby yourself either."

"That sounds so degrading coming from a kid."

"Oi, I'm only a year younger than you!" Pause. "And the better person, to boot."

He snapped his head back to look daggers at me. "What's that supposed to mean? You're probably the most violent chit I've ever met in my life, and that's including Bellatrix!" He paused, looking thoughtful. "Well, maybe not. But still!"

"I am not!" I retorted, deeply offended at being compared to that crazy bitch. "It's not my fault that you're such an insufferable prick, is it?"

He stared at me as if I'd grown two heads. "Me? Oh that's rich coming from little miss I'm-too-smart-to-ever-have-fun!" We glared at each other, fingering our wands. Maybe it was time for round two after all.

Unexpectedly, Black sighed and burrowed deeper into the chair, running a hand through his dark mane. "Look, Potter, I don't understand why you hate me so much."

"Same here," I muttered. He held up a hand and I fell silent.

"I mean, I might think that you're too much of a pureblood princess obsessed with books for my comfort, yeah -" ("Do you _want_ me to hex you?") " - but I don't think it's quite normal for us to be at each other's throats like this."

I tugged at a loose strand of hair. "Well, alright, here's what we'll do." Black looked at me, seeming puzzled at my sudden attempt to hold a civil conversation. "We'll list why we despise each other, take turns, and maybe we can figure out a solution. Because honestly?" I gestured at the ruined study. "If this keeps up we'll be waging actual war on each other instead of tossing around harmless spells."

Sirius nodded doubtfully and pulled up a leg onto the seat of the chair, resting an arm on the raised knee. "Why not... well, for one, you're too obsessed with pureblood mannerisms."

"You'd be surprised how useful those things can be," I snapped. "The most influential powers in the wizarding world consist of ancient pureblood families - learning the proper do's and don'ts of elite society might prove extremely beneficial. You of all people ought to realize this!"

"Well pardon me for hating the entire blood purity rubbish!" he shot back hotly. "I can't believe you're James's sister!"

I slammed a hand onto the armrest and bared my teeth at the infuriating boy. "Hold your tongue! Just because I'm making myself more aware of what we both know is basically a pit full of vipers doesn't mean that I support that nonsense either! And whoever said that I actually _liked_ learning these things?" My lip curled. "I _hate_ how stiff and stuffy pureblood etiquette is, but since it can help my family I will learn it!"

For his part, Sirius seemed taken aback at my outburst. "... You don't like it?"

"Are you _deaf_ you blockhead?"

"I wasn't expecting that, okay?"

"That's why you're a narrow-minded, judgmental pig! You're so irritating!"

"Excuse me?! I don't think you ought to be talking!"

You can probably guess what happened next.

* * *

"So," James said, staring at the large hole in the wall. Peter waved through it on the other side, and Remus was studying the massive crater on the adjacent wall with a mildly impressed air. "I leave you two for an hour so you can clean up your mess, and instead you cause _another_ one."

I shifted guiltily, and I could tell that Sirius was just as uncomfortable under the eyes of my brother, even if he tried to pass himself off as bored.

"He just rubs me the wrong way," I said, ignoring the dirty look Black threw my way.

James pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Carina Dorea Potter," he said slowly, "if Mum and Dad decide to ground you, then I had no part in this. Agreed?"

Hearing my mumbled answer in the affirmative, he shrugged and headed back outside. "Let's go look for that unicorn," he said, sounding a heck of a lot more like his usual self now that he was sure he wouldn't be dragged down into punishment with me. What a kind brother. "C'mon, Remus, Peter - Sirius, help Rina. Have fun!"

"... Sometimes I really hate that boy."

* * *

When Mum and Dad came back from the celebration, the mansion was spotless, not a single crater or burnt carpet in sight. This was largely thanks to the aid of the house elves, who had been allowed by James to help us erase all evidence that there had been a mini duel of sorts. The portraits had been more or less bribed (in some cases, like Great-great Aunt Primrose, blackmailed) into keeping mum, so we succeeded in convincing Dorea and Charlus Potter that we had spent the day playing in the yard, flying and occasionally talking about Hogwarts.

Well, the latter was true for the Marauders save Sirius Black. But who cares about the details, anyway?

Lying in bed that night, I stared at the wall opposite the bed, ignoring the movements of the unicorns in the tapestry, made clear by the moonlight streaming through the window. Seeing as it was a warm summer night I'd left the window open halfway to let the cool breeze flow through for a refreshing feel. Had I still been Heidi, I wouldn't have dared in fear of bugs creeping in, but as a witch I had placed a nifty little charm around my room that repelled all insects. So I was safe.

I couldn't sleep, and after realizing that I probably wasn't going to be nodding off anytime soon I sighed and kicked the thinner covers off, swinging myself up and pulling on a pair of slippers and bathrobe over my sleeping gown. It was more of an extremely comfortable sundress that had become too worn to wear in public, but hey, it suited my needs perfectly. Even if the ruffles at the bottom dug into my legs at times in bed.

Padding over to the writing desk, I slipped out my wand and lit a candle, pulling out a sheet of parchment and rummaging for a quill in the lower drawer. Finally emerging with a mottled brown feather I'd plucked from Orpheus as punishment for being too loud the other day, I unscrewed the cap of the ink bottle and started writing.

"_Reasons Why I Hate Sirius Black_" was scrawled across the top of the parchment, and satisfied with the look I scratched out the number one under it. My mind wistfully looked back on my days in the other life, where no one used quills, just pens. I wish I had pens... but of course not, it was a pureblood wizarding manor, where was I going to find a Muggle pen?

_1. He's too arrogant._

Nothing so true had ever been said before. Sirius Black was, indeed, a cocky piece of shit who knew he was good-looking and knew he was rich. He knew he was smart and talented in magic, and the combination was a conceited brat who thought himself superior to all other mundane and boring beings. Other than my own brother, of course.

_2. He eats like he's going to die the next day._

I mean, really, it's not as if we starve the boy or anything. His table manners are respectable, true - he _was_ raised as a pureblood heir after all - but the sheer amount of food he devoured was staggering. And when my parents weren't around... abovementioned table manners were tossed out the window in favor of a more caveman approach. Grab, shove in mouth, swallow, repeat.

_3. He doesn't acknowledge the advantages of being a pureblood, too focused on rebelling._

What kind of idiot refused to accept the benefits of such elevated status? One didn't necessarily have to abuse the position, as Lucius Malfoy would, but no one could deny the upsides of being born with a silver spoon in our mouths. Politics was a messy thing, but having a family history spanning back to Merlin knows how far was always a plus. I might only be eleven, but that much was pretty obvious. Attaining desired information and getting a hold of connections would be much easier as a pureblood than a common Muggleborn.

_4._ _He thought it would be funny to sabotage the pegasi race we had by feeding my Granian outdated grain._

I scowled at the memory. James, Sirius and I had participated in a winged horse race with Remus and Peter judging, and the prize was the two losers having to owe the victor one favor or wish. After that ultimatum no one had been willing to lose. Then Black thought it'd be outrageously comical to ruin my chances and that night I'd nursed my Granian back to health in the stables myself. That's animal cruelty right there, people. Take a good look.

(It didn't really matter that he'd apologized after seeing my haggard appearance the next morning, with bruises under my eyes. He'd still poisoned poor Jupiter. PETA would have been _on_ to him back in my old world.)

_5. He called books stupid._

Shows how much he knows. Knowledge is power, fools.

Tapping the soft end of the quill against my chin, I frowned, racking my brains for more reasons to list. Surprisingly, I had a hard time, coming up with a weak "_He likes bananas_" which was so ridiculous that I had to cross it off.

No more incidents came to mind, all jumbled into one big blob, but I had to admit that we didn't get along because he just rubbed me the wrong way. I wasn't sure why, but he did, and that was that.

Frustrated by the lack of concrete reasons to dislike the boy, I threw down the quill, rolled up the parchment and stowed it behind the temperamental dresser mirror. Niobe and Phaedra were sound asleep in their wicker basket under the window, occasionally twitching their noses and tails in their slumber. I spared them a small smile - freaking adorable cats - and decided to get a glass of water, slipping out the room and making my way down the winding staircase, wand held aloft, _lumos_ helping me in the dark.

I didn't expect the light to be on in the kitchen though, but figured that it was probably the house elves cleaning up unnecessarily. Much to my surprise, standing in the doorway, it was the very person I had been writing of only moments before - reasons why I hated him, specifically.

Sirius seemed equally stunned. We stared at each other for a while until I snorted softly and padded toward the cupboards, taking out a cup and rummaging through the fridge, which hummed quietly with magic when I pulled the door open. I took a seat a seat away from his at the long counter, and we sat there quietly, for once not trying to kill each other. It was night, we each had a lot of things to think about, and it would be tiring to start up a fuss.

I sipped my water, staring out into space. If I had to be brutally honest with myself I had no idea what to do in regards to the future. Sure, I'd made that entire dramatic speech about how I wasn't going to be a bystander, but even without Aella nagging in my head I knew that fate and destiny and that crap was complicated beyond belief. One wrong move and I might as well be damning the wizarding world to an era of fear and misery under the control of an insane Dark Lord.

My only somewhat certain solution seemed to be my death in exchange for Lily's life. I still had what, seven or more years to think, but I wanted to find a plan as early as possible. Brows creasing, I stared into the clear liquid in the cup, squeezing my brain for answers it couldn't offer.

According to Aella, who most likely was a messenger from the higher beings or something along those lines, I couldn't mess with my unborn nephew's destiny without disastrous consequences. There was nothing I could do to change the fact that Harry Potter was fated to be the savior of wizarding Britain, but I _could_ hand him a better life. I hope. Those Dursleys sounded awful, and I was reluctant to even _think_ of letting them get their hands on him.

To die or to watch my loved ones die. What a terrible option. I just needed to find the middle way then. Problem was... my mind came up with nothing.

Even if I died for Harry, letting Lily and possibly my brother to survive that awful Halloween night, if what Aella said was true, then my protection wouldn't be as strong as Lily's would be. So what, just let her die? Not on my watch.

"Don't hurt yourself with so much thinking," Sirius said, interrupting my train of thought. Blinking away the haze, I stared at him like an idiot before the words hit me. I scowled.

"I don't think you should be worrying about _me_, Black," I quipped. "Out of the two of us, you're more likely to suffer from thinking too hard." Throwing in a poison-sweet smile for good measure, I patted his hand. "Don't strain yourself, yeah? James would be devastated."

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny," he muttered. "Ever thought of being a stand-up comedian?"

I didn't bother answering that, and we lapsed back into thoughtful silence. He wasn't as energetic or self-confident, or just plain annoying as he usually was, and a glimpse of his face suggested that he was pondering some heavy matters himself. Perhaps not as weighty as my own thoughts (then again, I knew the future more clearly than Sybill Trelawny ever would - it's bound to make me feel like Atlas, holding up the sky), but serious enough to call for such a solemn face. Feeling like I was infringing his privacy, I turned back to my cup of water.

We stayed that way until he stood up and left for his room.

I stared at the ripples in the water until the first rays of sunlight peeked through.


	7. Chapter 7

Faster than I thought possible, it was already the first of September and the manor was bustling with activity, the boys - with the exception of Remus Lupin, of course - were rushing, haphazardly throwing together their trunks at the very last minute. I was very much content to wander the gardens and stables, saying goodbye to the winged beasts, drinking in my home before I departed for Hogwarts.

Remus, being the kind soul he was, had disappeared to help his friends.

I was patting the nose of Jupiter, the Granian that Black had poisoned a while back, murmuring sweet nonsense into his pricked ear when Dad dropped in. "Excited for Hogwarts, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning against the stall across from Jupiter's.

"No more and no less than any other witch," I replied, untangling a knot in the magnificent creature's mane. "And even though you and Mum probably suspect this already, I doubt I'll be Sorted into Gryffindor, Dad." Glancing over my shoulder, I flashed him an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

He laughed and walked closer, wrapping his arms around me in a warm hug. "Your mother and I will be proud whatever House you're placed in, love," he assured me. "Slytherin or Hufflepuff, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, it doesn't matter - just have fun at Hogwarts for us, alright?"

"Most definitely," I said, smiling into his broad chest. "Thanks, Daddy."

We stood there for a long time, just enjoying the other's presence, until James was yelling our names, waiting impatiently from the car. (Yes, car - I'd been ecstatic to see something Muggle for once, having owned a nice albeit run-down minivan as Heidi Livington.) Pulling away, he kissed me on the head and said quietly, "We'll miss you, darling."

"And I you," I agreed. "I'll miss you too."

* * *

Kings Cross was crowded, filled with Muggles and wizarding folk disguised as them alike, and I had to struggle not to be swept away from my family. Luckily, James noticed and latched onto my hand, holding on tightly so we wouldn't be separated. If his friends noticed, for once they didn't say a thing.

And then we were standing in front of the brick wall that led to Platform 9 3/4. I stared at it; it looked very solid. And I was supposed to run through it?

As if erasing all doubt, Remus and Sirius decided to go first, leaning casually against the bricks until they were completely gone from sight. Then was Peter, who like me seemed uneasy about the whole running-into-walls idea but did it anyway, and James, and then it was my turn.

"Alright there, love?" Mum fretted, tucking a strand of loose black lock behind my ear. I nodded, giving my parents a warm smile, and with a "See you on the other side" I was running into the wall.

To my great relief, I had not been sent tumbling with a massive bruise on the head, only passing through the barrier and nearly running over Pettigrew. Someone caught my arm before I could though, and I straightened gratefully, about to thank whoever it was when I finally saw the other side of the brick wall.

J.K Rowling had failed to fully express the marvels of Platform 9 3/4, as she had with Diagon Alley.

It was crowded, yes, but this time with people who were obviously witches and wizards, dressed in cloaks and sporting outdated accessories. A minority managed to perfect the Muggle look, but the majority were openly magical.

"Better get a compartment soon," Dad observed, towering over us and a few of the surrounding wizards. "Have fun at Hogwarts kids, and take care of your sister son."

I snorted. "More like I'll be taking care of him."

"Hey!"

Mum laughed. "She has a point, dear," she told her son, who looked away with a disgruntled expression, being ribbed by his friends. She turned to me and kissed me on the forehead. "Be careful Carina, and be good - have fun, and write often, okay?"

"I'll bully James into letting me borrow Orpheus," I nodded. "I'll miss you too, Mum."

James decided that enough was enough and grabbed my arm, towing me to the Hogwarts Express, his friends trailing behind us. "Bye Mum, Dad!" he shouted, grinning. "See you over break!"

"You're so pushy," I complained, straightening as we entered the train. The boys had taken it upon themselves to carry my trunk for me, which I found oddly sweet yet suspicious at the same time. James ignored my grumbling and ushered us into an empty compartment, helping the others shove our trunks onto the shelves above our heads. I immediately claimed a seat next to Remus, and on my other side I plopped down the wicker basket containing my cats. This forced my brother, Sirius and Pettigrew to sit across from us, which I'd of course planned.

We spent a good deal of the ride talking and laughing, remembering our adventures during the summer (and, in my case, holding several glaring contests with Black), when I decided to give them their male bonding time. Telling them that I had to go to the restroom, I left, wandering down the corridor.

I was wondering what I ought to do when someone bumped into me, knocking both of us backward. "Ow!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Opening my eyes, I saw a round-faced girl with her mousy brown hair pulled into braided pigtails flushing rapidly. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and -"

"Please," I cut in hastily, "I was at fault as well. I hope you're not hurt?"

She nodded, braids whipping the air. "No, but thank you... are you alright?"

"Quite." I smiled and held out a hand, correctly assuming that she wasn't from some stiff pureblood family. "Carina Potter, first year. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She looked at my hand before blinking rapidly and grasping it in hers. "Oh, sorry, I'm Phoebe, Phoebe Aprils. It's nice to meet you too." She hesitated, then screwed up her courage and blurted, "Have you seen a cat around here? Small, kind of chubby white long-hair? I've lost her _again_ and I don't know what to do..."

"Sorry, but can you tell me your cat's name?" I asked, taking out my wand. "Maybe I can help, though I'm not too certain this will work."

She eyed the wand, as if surprised to see it. "Er, her name's Louise. You know how to use spells?"

"Only a little," I said. I placed the wand on the flat of my palm. "Point me Louise the cat!"

It spun wildly, before stopping to point the way she'd been coming from. "Well, I don't know if it's right, but it says your cat is somewhere in the compartments behind you."

"Thank you!" She shuffled her feet. "Could... could you teach me that spell? It seems very useful..." I smiled, agreeing, and we spent the next ten minutes having a mini-lesson on the Point Me spell. Afterward she thanked me profusely and we parted.

I decided that the boys had had enough time to themselves and ambled back to the compartment, only to find them gone. Typical. You leave them alone for a few minutes and next thing you know they're missing. Sighing in irritation, I stepped back out into the corridor and used the Point Me spell again, following the wand's directions and peering into compartment doors subtly. When I found him, accompanied by his band of troublemakers, I groaned.

James Potter had invaded Lily Evans and Severus Snape's compartment.

How fabulous.

I slid the door open quietly, stepping in and closing it back shut without anyone noticing, too riveted on the bitchfest between my brother and his bitter rival, the Slytherin second year. I could have slammed my head against the wall at the stupidity of it all.

"Ever heard of something called a _bath_, Snivellus?" James taunted, smirking arrogantly. In that one moment, he seemed far too much like Black than I was comfortable with. "Might do you some good, don't you think?"

"Oh, honestly," Lily Evans butted in, eyes flashing at the nerve of the boys. "Haven't you learned any manners yet, Potter?"

James grinned roguishly at her. "Ah, but Evans," he said, "you see, there's this idea I believe in, that only the people who deserve my love and attention will get it. Snivellus here," he motioned to the seething boy, "is clearly not that person. You, on the other hand..."

The redhead made a sound of disgust.

"And," I interjected smoothly, crossing my hands over my chest and fixing my brother a look of utter contempt, "clearly, you are not the most admirable person to ever grace their presence either."

James jumped, before smiling sheepishly. "Rina! Back so soon?"

"Just stay out of it, you annoying hag," Sirius snapped back, mood ruined now that I'd crashed their party. "And here I was, hoping you'd get lost and never come back."

"I suggest you keep your silence, Black," I said coolly. "Your mouth has a most unfortunate habit of making your inferior intellect public to the world." Snape sniggered at this, and Sirius glared, about to retort, when I slashed my hand through the air. "Enough. You are not worth my time."

Stalking over to my brother, I stared down at him with narrowed eyes and swiftly slapped him upside the head. "Ouch!" he complained, rubbing his head. He looked up at me, wounded. "What was that for?"

"That," I informed him, "was for being an insufferable prat like Black here. It's absolutely disgraceful, James, how dare you adopt such vulgar mannerisms from that mutt!"

Sirius growled. "I take offense to that, you nagging hag."

I spared him a scathing glare and turned back to my brother, who looked somewhat ashamed. "I'm embarrassed for you, James. Now be silent while I clean up your mess!" Properly cowed, he simply nodded, shaking his head at his sullen best mate.

"I apologize for the terribly rude manner in which they have treated you," I said, turning to face Snape and Lily. "Believe me when I say that I am thoroughly appalled by their lack of proper conduct - and I think James here would like to apologize."

He scoffed. I leveled him with a look promising endless pain and he bit his lip.

"Mfphorry," he mumbled almost inaudibly. It wasn't much, but it would do.

Lily Evans looked gob smacked while her friend seemed as if his birthday had come early. "I'm sorry," the girl started weakly, "but who are you?"

Oh. Right. Inclining my head, I offered a placid smile. "Carina Potter, younger sister of Heir James Potter, a pleasure to meet you." Someday, I swore inside my head, I was going to watch and cackle when all these useless pureblood protocols crashed and burned.

The two friends stared. And stared some more.

"You," Snape said at last, "Potter's little sister?" He was clearly not buying it. If the expression of the redhead's face was anything to go by, she didn't either. I wondered just how awful my brother had been to them to incite such a reaction.

"I am, yes," I confirmed. "And I'm also very disappointed that none of his mates decided to stop him from acting in such a disgraceful manner. Honestly," I scolded, bearing down on the Marauders, "for shame, act your own age instead of convincing yourselves into thinking that you're four! I especially expected more from you, Remus." Said werewolf lowered his head guiltily, but not before I caught that small twitch of his lips.

However, it seemed that Sirius had snapped. "Oh for Merlin's sake, you little brat," he snarled, glaring defiantly. "You're not our mother, and thank heavens for that - stop being such a stiff-necked _pureblood_ and act _your_ age for once!" He spat the word _pureblood_ as if it was a vile curse.

"I am only showing these wonderful people the _proper_ respect that they no doubt deserve," I countered icily. James was looking between us with a mix of nervousness and exasperation, mostly the latter. "And nothing wrong with being a pureblood, as long as you don't cling to the ridiculous beliefs of blood purity and such. Also, pardon me if I was born a more mature individual than you could ever hope to be."

We were so close to drawing our wands when, unexpectedly, the compartment door slid open. "Snape, are you in here? The others wanted to - oh?"

Well this was unexpected. I prayed fervently that it wasn't who I thought it was.

Sucks for me.

"Oh, Rosier," Snape greeted. "Did you need something?"

Evan Rosier, my acquaintance from a year ago in Madam Malkin's store, cast a glance around the packed compartment, eyes somehow missing me and instead resting on Lily Evans. His lip curled ever so slightly. "Ah, Snape, what an... interesting company you keep. Two blood traitors and half-bloods, not to mention your... _Muggleborn_ friend."

The manner in which he said Muggleborn implied that he held her in a scornful light, much more than he did my brother and his friends.

Lily bristled. "I don't appreciate your tone, Rosier," she snapped.

"Learn your place, Mudblood," he shot back. James and Snape rose, outraged, but I sent them the sharpest glares I could manage and motioned for them to sit the hell down. Stepping closer so to be in the intruder's line of view, I curtseyed, miraculously managing to do so in the cramped space.

"Delighted to see you, Heir Rosier," I said, carefully maintaining my position. He apparently remembered our little encounter before as well, for he offered me a hand to lift me back up, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes.

He held my hand delicately before releasing it. "What a pleasant surprise, Miss Potter. I see that you're as charming as I remember," he greeted smoothly. We expertly ignored the stares from the others in the compartment. "And how have you been faring since our last meeting?"

"Quite well, thank you for your concern. May I be so bold as to inquire after your own well-being?" I could almost _feel_ Black's eyes boring a hole through the back of my head, stronger and more venomous than all the others there with us.

Rosier's smile broadened the slightest bit. "You most certainly may," he said, voice all silk and dark enthrallment. I didn't think it was possible for a twelve year old to have such a godly voice - it made you wonder what would happen as he aged. "I've been well enough, thank you, though the suffocating boredom has more often than not plagued me. It seems that this year will prove far more interesting than I'd expected, however." His eyed gazed down at me knowingly.

"And if I may, Heir Rosier," I continued after smiling prettily at the veiled compliment that he thought I was _interesting_, "I must dare request that you refrain from using such vulgar language in the company of respectable parties." Delicately waving a hand in Lily Evans's direction, I lowered my eyes ever so slightly. "Perhaps it may be selfish to ask of you this favor, but I _would_ feel far more comfortable away from the crudeness of such words."

I wanted to wash my mouth with soap. Deny I that ever spewed that flowery crap, you know, something along those lines. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this.

(It _really_ didn't help that I could hear Aella snickering in the far corner of my mind.)

The only son of the Lord and Lady Rosier looked thoughtful but shrugged languidly. "If it pleases Miss Potter, then who am I to deny such an innocent request? Of course, I apologize for the slip of my tongue, and hope that... Miss _Evans_ will find it within herself to pardon my coarseness as well." He looked at the Muggleborn witch with expectant eyes, clearly convinced that she would accept his shallow apology.

Lily just looked dazed and confused by it all. "Oh, no, it's perfectly alright," she stammered. The other may not have caught it, but I saw the faintest tightening of his jaw at her lack of poise. Well, I couldn't blame her - it's not like she was even aware that pureblood mannerisms existed beforehand.

"I am most grateful," Rosier intoned, somehow managing to sound dry even with his attempt to be civil. He directed his gaze back to me. "I do hope that I have soothed your troubled mind, Miss Potter. And I have yet to receive confirmation that my sincere concession suited your finely tuned tastes...?"

I smiled, forcing down the queasiness as the fancy talk dragged on. "On the contrary, Heir Rosier, I am humbled by your willingness to indulge me of my petty whims. I thank you most sincerely for your kindness."

Sirius barked with laughter as James mimed gagging behind us. As Rosier's eyes narrowed, honing in on the boys over my shoulder, I briefly closed my eyes. Merlin and Morgana, please don't blow this for us.

"Heir Rosier," I rushed to say, hoping to avoid a hostile confrontation that could quickly deteriorate. "I'm certain you've met by elder brother, Heir James Potter, during your last year at Hogwarts?"

His eyes flickered down to mine before fixing his cold gaze on said boy again. "We've met," he informed me in a chilly tone. "Though I must say, Miss Potter... the fact that you are related to this foolish cretin never ceases to astound me. Ah, it seems as though my tongue as a mind of its own - please forgive the crudeness yet again."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" James demanded, all signs of mirth draining away. I winced; if there's one thing my brother despised, it was having our relationship as brother and sister doubted, questioned.

I groaned. "Please, excuse my brother, Heir Rosier," I was quick to say, throwing a subtle but clear warning look at the seething Gryffindor. "I'm afraid neither of us are all too fond of having our status as brother and sister questioned."

"Is that so?" he murmured thoughtfully. Dark eyes travelled from my brother to his best mate, and a faint sneer crossed his face. "Ah, and his ever so loyal lapdog... the blood traitor, Sirius Black, tarnishing the prestigious Black family name."

Sirius bared his teeth at the boy who I now was pretty damn sure was a Slytherin. "Bold words from a lonely boy trying his hand at lord, obeying his father's every command like a mindless beast," he spat, surprising us all with the sudden surfacing of his aristocratic upbringing. "The Black name has long been sullied by the generations of lunatics who dare believe themselves superior in accordance to their _blood_, which has caused us more than a few incidents of madness and Squibs." He seemed more dangerous, darker. In spite of myself I was in awe - _here_ was a pureblood heir besting his opponent in a verbal battle.

"I hardly think your ancestors can be considered insane," Rosier was quick to reply. "In your desire to rebel, your desperation to stand out rather than be drowned in the awe-inspiring raw talents of your family, you have turned a blind eye to the accomplishments of your forefathers! All were highly respected Slytherin graduates, unlike _you_, the mangy little mutt huddling behind the false glory and honor of those _Gryffindors!"_

I wanted to cut in, lead the conversation away from the dangerous line it was treading, back to safer waters, but I couldn't. I might not like following pureblood protocol, but this... by Merlin, this was _art_.

Sirius released a sharp bark of derisive laughter. "Exactly!" he crowed, head falling forward to pierce his opponent with glittering steel orbs. "They were _Slytherins_." The implication behind the word, spat with palpable hatred and disgust, was clear as day.

"And what," Rosier hissed, hand rising toward the inner folds of his robes, most likely for his wand, "is the matter with the noble House of Slytherin?" By then, Sirius had his fingers clenched around his own wand, the two boys glaring murderously at each other. The sheer amount of hostility in the air was stifling; one would never have expected such intensity from two preteen _boys_, but there it was, the crystal clear evidence.

Lily, Remus and James looked uneasy as to what they ought to do, while Peter was whimpering, curling into himself and trying to become one with the upholstery, and Snape... Snape was staring at the scene with bright eyes, and I didn't quite like the fascination I saw. Everyone knew this was about to erupt into a pureblood battle to defend his own beliefs, which usually were the worst, and no one seemed to be able to move.

So I did. To hell with the weak and obedient chit facade.

"ENOUGH!" I thundered, eyes blazing as I forced myself firmly between the two males. Turning to Rosier, I didn't bother to curtsey or anything, just looked him dead in the eyes and started speaking quietly. "Heir Rosier, my sincere regrets, but I must demand that you leave this compartment immediately. I will have no duels over honor at such a young age, especially if it threatens the safety of innocents."

He blinked, as if seeing me for the first time, but I plowed on. "I have no doubt that both you and Heir Black possess a large arsenal of spells you should not know, due to your upbringing as the eldest sons of pureblood families. But that very fact will endanger students on board, and I refuse to stand for such a thing. Pardon my rudeness, but I ask that you leave this very minute." Ducking behind him, I pulled the door open with more force than I intended and waited for him to step out.

Rosier remained silent, as did everyone else, but slowly a genuine smile crept over his lips, and he laughed. _Laughed._ Well, fine, he _chuckled_, but same difference. "I have misjudged you, Miss Potter," he told me, entertained by something or another. "Indeed, I have once again overstepped my boundaries - so I shall leave, yes, but not," he said sharply, glowering at the steaming Black, "before Heir Black offers an apology for daring to insult the Slytherin House."

I pursed my lips. It felt horrible to admit it, but he was right; Sirius had no excuse for insulting one of the four Houses of Hogwarts due to his childhood issues. Not all Slytherins were evil after all, and, I thought, glancing at Severus Snape, some had turned out to be fighting for the Light in the end.

Turning to Sirius, I fixed him with a severe look. "Heir Black, I must also ask that you apologize for castigating one of the four Hogwarts Houses," I said in the no-nonsense voice I had perfected over the years. Over by the window, James cringed almost unnoticeably. "You do possess the freedom to detest your rivals in Slytherin, but judging the entire House as a whole on such shaky grounds is hardly acceptable."

There was a long silence, during which I dreaded that he would refuse, but abruptly he grunted and looked off to the side. "Alright," he said lowly, "I admit my sincere regrets in allowing my slip of tongue to run rampant, Heir Rosier." Black turned to me crossly. "There, how's that?"

"Your delivery could be improved upon," I said wryly, "but it is what it is, I suppose. Now, Heir Rosier, I must ask of you a third time that you leave promptly. Thank you for your cooperation." I turned, eyeing the seat between Snape and the window, when the pureblood ponce grabbed my hand and planted a light kiss on the back of it.

I gaped at him, all thoughts of keeping up a cool persona flying out of my head. What the bloody nine rings of hell...?

Rosier grinned impishly, hair falling over his eyes. "We'll be meeting again in the near future, Miss Potter, I'm sure," he mused, seeming more alive than I'd ever seen him. "Until then..." Another peck, and he was gone.

It dawned on my jumbled mind that Rosier had left without informing Snape of whatever the gang of Slytherins wanted from the latter, alongside the fact that James was now throwing a rage fit at "the _nerve_ of that pampered prat!" But it seemed pretty far away as I stared at the hand the pureblood prince had snatched.

"... Bloody hell."


	8. Chapter 8

As soon as I more or less regained my senses, my knees gave out and I collapsed onto the floor, staring into thin air.

"Rina!" James panicked, waving a hand in front of my face. "... Carina?"

"Is she alright?" I heard Lily whisper to Snape, who shrugged and scrutinized me with those black eyes that, as it had Harry, reminded me of dark tunnels.

I groaned and fanned myself with one hand. "'M fine," I muttered, waving away their concerns. "That was just too much pureblood nonsense to be comfortable with. Felt like an hour, that."

Remus handed me a Chocolate Frog, smiling encouragingly at me. "You were wonderful," he informed me honestly. "It was amazing to watch - you too, Sirius," he added, glancing over his shoulder at the boy who was staring at me with a strange expression.

Sirius Black blinked and shook himself free of whatever thoughts had been traipsing across his mind, yawning and scratching his shaggy mane of coal black hair. "Too much of a bother," he scoffed, leaning his head against the backrest and closing his eyes. "Merlin and Morgana, I haven't talked like that since I was eight!"

"You sounded incredible," Peter piped up, suddenly all big eyes and hero-worship again. Coward. As soon as the danger had passed he had assumed his role as the fanner of James and Sirius's egos. Unexpectedly, he turned to me. "You too, Carina - so brave and elegant!"

"Er, thanks," I said, edging away from him. Those watery blues were downright _disturbing_ once they were sparkling up at you in admiration. Save it for my brother, bitch. At least _he_ laps it up.

_**Language**_**, **Aella scolded. I pictured batting her into a brick wall.

"Hold on a minute," Snape interrupted, brows creased. "You don't _like_ it?"

Presumably, he was referring to the blatant display of my status. "There's nothing wrong with being a pureblood," I said, accepting the Chocolate Frog but making no attempt to stand. The floor was surprisingly comfortable. "It allows me more freedom and influence just because pureblood families are regarded as old powers, almost nobility in the wizarding world. Then again, it's a double edged sword." Chocolates weren't my favorite snacks, but it did give me a rush of warmth as I bit into it - I could wholly believe that it was used to soothe those who had been in the presence of dementors now.

"How so?" Lily Evans had recovered from her temporary state of shock and was now looking at me with a gleam in her eye, as if I was some specimen she had yet to dissect. Again, unnerving. But flattering as well. "I'd think it would make politics a lot more smoother than people like me."

Sirius took it upon himself to answer in my stead. "How so?" he repeated, staring at the redheaded witch as if she was stupid. "What d'you mean, _how so?_ Fake freedom, sure, but look closer and then there are thousands of rules and things you can't _say_ or _do._ It's maddening, that."

"He's right," James agreed. He'd probably sensed that Lily was interested in the ropes of pureblood society, despite abhorring it himself. Unlike me, he'd never even _pretended_ that he gave a hippogriff's backside for the stuff. "One word out of order and you're a mouse in a pit of vipers and scorpions together."

"Shame on you, shame on your family, shame on your ancestors, shame," I nodded, lips twitching as I recalled a particular Disney movie I'd loved in my past life. Mulan, the only princess who didn't wait around for Prince Charming to step in and save her. Nah, she just took her dad's place as a soldier, kicked major ass, blew up the honcho villain and saved China. And _then_ the guy asked _her_ out. Enough said.

Seeing that Lily still didn't quite understand, though Remus was looking at us with something akin to pity, I clapped my hands. "Besides, Miss Evans," I said lightly, "there's nothing wrong with being a halfblood or a Muggleborn. Magic chooses people for reasons unknown to us, so for that reason alone we're all to be respected. Being a pureblood doesn't guarantee great magical prowess or intellect - one look at that awful Parkinson boy ought to speak volumes."

Edgar Parkinson would be, I suspected, the father of Pansy Parkinson, who in her years at Hogwarts would aid Draco Malfoy in belittling my nephew at every turn while clinging to the Malfoy scion's arm. Even if that thought didn't make me want to hex something, the male himself was rude, egoistical, but groveled at the feet of his betters (in terms of status, of course). The play-date years ago between James and Parkinson had proved disastrous and since then both my brother and I had held a special spot of disgust for him in our hearts.

Lily laughed, though Snape seemed a bit uncomfortable - I assumed Parkinson was one of his friends in the mini Death Eater crew - and gave me a friendly smile. "You know, I like you," she said, pointedly not looking at the Marauders. James looked as if someone had just slapped him. She held out her hand. "I may not know about the proper way of greeting people," she said, "but I _do_ know that I want to be your friend. My name's Lily, Lily Evans."

I looked at the hand, then studied her forest green eyes, feeling my heart skip a little as I realized I was looking at my future nephew's eyes. They were lit with curiosity and genuine kindness that erased any doubts that this was the right woman for my brother. I smiled and shook the outstretched hand. "Carina Potter. Nice to meet you, Lily."

"Hang on!" James sputtered, staring at us. "So you like _her_ but not _us?"_ It was obvious he meant "me" when he said "us." My lips twitched at his indignant expression. "That's bullocks, that's what it is, bullocks!"

"I like your dress," Lily said. James made a sound of frustration.

I muffled my laughter. "Thank you. I like your blouse." And I did; it looked satiny and was a deep shade of green that complimented her eyes. "It suits your eyes very well."

"Oh Merlin," Sirius muttered. "_Girl_ talk. Disgusting."

"Then maybe," I snapped, giving him the evil eye, "you should leave! Who says you have be here, anyway? I doubt Lily and her friend want you to stay, either."

Snape agreed. Lily agreed.

"Have it your way, Princess Potter," the Black heir growled, stalking out of the compartment. "And don't expect us to wait for you once we get to Hogwarts!"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a first year, Black. Either way, you four won't be going with me once we get there. I'll be going my boat with Hagrid, you dimwit."

He ignored me and continued walking, Peter glancing hesitantly from him to James. Remus looked resigned as our animosity sprang up again, as did my brother but the latter groaned and stood up, no doubt to go after his best mate and make peace in my place. "You should be nicer to him, Rina," he reprimanded halfheartedly, knowing full well that it wasn't going to happen. "When will you two stop fighting?"

"As soon as he learns some manners," I sniffed. He gave me a look but left, Peter scrambling to follow his idols. Remus lingered to pat me on the head, but took his leave after a murmured "He's not that bad."

So the three of us sat: Lily Evans, Severus Snape, and me.

Sighing, I pulled myself up and onto the seat that James had vacated. "I'm sorry for intruding," I apologized. "If I'm a bother, I can always leave -"

"Don't be ridiculous," Lily said, leaning in. "I hope you don't mind, but you're nothing like I expected Potter's little sister to be."

"I'm surprised you even knew he had a sister."

Snape snorted. "A bit hard not to when he's talking about how cute his adorable sister is," he muttered. Clearly, he'd been expecting a pampered prissy little girl, not... whatever I was. Somehow, I felt offended and flattered at the same time. He held out a hand. "I'm Severus Snape, Slytherin first year."

"And I'm a Gryffindor," his friend offered.

I shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you. I hope James hasn't been as horrible to you as I think he has been, though I wouldn't be surprised if Black was."

They exchanged a dark look. "Oh, yes," Lily said, huffing, "he has. What an arrogant little prick, thinking he's the _king_ and always so troublesome, I don't understand why everyone likes him." She seemed to remember that she was venting to James Potter's kid sister. "Er, no offense."

"None taken," I assured her. "As much as I love him, I know he can be an arse sometimes."

Snape, the Slytherin he was, had been staring at me with calculating dark eyes, but spoke up. "So what House are you hoping to get into?" he asked, eyes remaining on my own. I held the gaze blandly.

"Yeah!" Lily agreed, though she was just curious. Snape was trying to gouge my character. "Maybe Gryffindor, like your brother?" She missed the miniscule narrowing of her companion's eyes.

I shook my head, shifting my gaze to her. "Actually, no, not Gryffindor. I'm afraid I'm not quite the type - brave, fiercely loyal, oftentimes pigheadedly diving into conflicts with wand in hand," I admitted. Then paused, thoughtful. "Well, maybe the loyal part. But I'm sure I won't be in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw seems the most likely for me."

The pleasant chatter continued for a while, during which Snape found it in him to relax and occasionally give his two cents, which confirmed his above average intelligence. Sure, he was a part of the wrong crowd - Lily and Snape had a brief argument over that - but he wasn't a half bad person. I was going to roast James's arse over a pit of dragon fire about his unsavory behavior toward the Slytherin.

Lily and my enthusiastic debate over Muggle fashion was interrupted by the door banging open. I looked up and was shocked into silence at the sight of Sirius Black clutching my cat Niobe, and both looked disgruntled. "What...?"

He shoved the feline in my arms. "Here," he muttered unhappily, "the stupid little thing wouldn't shut up. James told me to bring it to you."

"_She_ has a name," I huffed, stroking her head, "and it's Niobe. At least have the decency to remember her name after turning her into a pumpkin, Black."

"Shut up Potter."

Snape chose that moment to speak. "Why send you when clearly she's on better terms with Lupin?" He sneered. "Potter too lazy to do it himself, chose to send his dog, did he?"

"Sev!" Lily scolded. He quieted, but not without a glare. His enemy laughed mockingly at the sight.

"So who's the dog now, Snivellus?"

"Oh, just go back to the others," I sighed, pushing him out with one hand. "Tell James to take care of Phaedra and _not_ to give her any sweets." He looked confused. "My other cat, you dimwit. Now shoo, you're not making things any better."

Lily was cooing over my cat when I sat down again. "What a pretty cat!" she said, laughing as the silver tabby purred loudly, lapping up the affection. "I always wanted a cat, but Tuney - my sister - doesn't like animals." She faltered at the memory of her sister.

"Isn't Niobe the woman who offended the gods so much that they killed her children?" Snape interjected, eyeing the animal. "Bit odd to name a pet after someone like that, isn't it?"

"A queen who boasted that her beauty surpassed that of Artemis and Apollo's mother, actually," I corrected. "They were so offended that they shot her children - seven sons and seven daughters - dead with their arrows. She was so devastated that she wept until Zeus turned her into a stone, and even then they say she continues to weep." I shrugged. "I liked the story, so I figured it would do and went for the name."

He looked at the cat. "Oh."

A girl with curly brown hair rapped at the door before opening it, looking at Lily. "Lily, we're almost at Hogwarts - you better get changed soon. And who's this?" she asked, looking at me curiously. Notice how she didn't greet Snape.

"Oh, this is Carina Potter," Lily introduced. "Carina, this is Mary Macdonald, a witch in my year. She's a Gryffindor, like me."

Mary's eyes gleamed. "Potter? Are you related to a James Potter?"

"My brother, actually," I said. "It's nice to meet you."

She looked at me excitedly before bursting out of the compartment. We could hear her footsteps hurrying down the corridor. I stared after her blankly. "She didn't say it was nice to meet me."

"By the time we get there, everyone will know you're Potter's kid sister," Snape said. "Macdonald's an annoying little gossip with a passionate love for your brother."

Lily frowned at him. "Mary's not that bad!" she protested. "And she doesn't like Potter that way, either, just thinks he's clever and funny." Snape didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway.

"Well, we should change. Severus, would you mind stepping out for us a minute?" I questioned, then stopped short. "Oh, dragon dung. My robes are back with the others." Standing up, I heaved a sigh and mustered up a smile at the two friends. "I suppose I'll be seeing you later, then. Wish me luck!"

Lily waved goodbye and Snape just jerked his head in a nod - better than nothing - and I left, using the Point Me spell to find the Marauders' compartment. And find it I did - in the middle of them changing.

"Bloody hell!" I yelped, slamming the door shut and pressing my back against it, heat rising to my cheeks. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

I flushed harder upon hearing the muffled swearing from inside.

"It's safe now," my brother called, and I hesitantly opened the door, wincing at the disheveled appearance of the boys. Remus was tinged red, looking out the window at the passing scenery, while Pettigrew looked uncomfortable, eyes flickering from me to the others. Thankfully, he hadn't yet started changing when I'd walked in (small miracles _do_ happen). James just looked cross, but resigned - we _were_ siblings after all - but Sirius.

Merlin. Sirius.

He had a dark look on his face, glaring daggers. "Ever heard of _knocking_, Potter?"

"I said I was sorry!" I sputtered. "I didn't _mean_ to, obviously -"

"For a pureblood, your manners are _appalling_," he said, obviously mimicking me. That did it.

I spat, "I do _not_ sound like that!" (he sounded like he'd inhaled helium) and glanced at the wall. "... I'm sorry. I just came back to get my robes..." Personally, I thought they were making a bigger deal out of this than it actually was, but that's just the nineteen year old in me talking. Hey, when you go to college, you see all sorts of shit that you _never_ wanted to see.

"Right, right," James sighed. He reached up and grabbed my trunk, looking at his friends. "Get out, will you? She's got to change."

"Damn right she has to change," Sirius muttered. "Change her _personality, _for one."

"I said I was sorry!" I shouted. "Merlin's pants, you hold a grudge worse than a woman!" That probably wasn't the right thing to say, I reflected as I watched James help Remus drag the offended Black out of the compartment, slapping a hand over his mouth. Peter scurried out without looking back.

Making sure the lock - yes, the _lock_, made you wonder why they didn't use it in the first place - was fully functioning, I pulled the dress over my head, dressing myself in the required Hogwarts uniform consisting of a white blouse, gray sweater and pleated skirt, worn under the plain black robe. Yanking on the calf-high white socks, I fumbled with the lock, finally freeing it, and called, "You can come in now!"

Silence.

Pulling on the black loafers, I shrugged. Then froze. They went to Snape and Lily, didn't they.

_**Absolutely brilliant of you,**_ Aella exclaimed sarcastically. _**A rocket scientist couldn't have done better, good job.**_

I mentally shoved her into a small box.

"Why do I have such a dumb brother?" I asked Phedra. She looked up from pawing her sister's tail and blinked. I nodded. "Right. Sorry I asked. I'll go get him now."

I had just flung the door open when I saw James looking back at me with open surprise. "What...?

"Did you go see Lily and Severus?" I demanded.

"Actually, we went to talk to Frank Longbottom," Remus piped up from where he was standing behind my brother and Black. "He said he wanted to show us his new owl, said it's ridiculous how loony it is sometimes..."

"Severus?" Sirius repeated, sounding disgusted. "Blimey, James, your sister's gone off and gotten friendly with little _Snivellus!"_

"His name is _Severus_, Black."

James gripped my shoulders. "Rina, what in Merlin's beard? Snivellus is a _Slytherin_."

"So's our mother, you idiot."

"Mum doesn't count," he dismissed impatiently. "But Snivellus is a future Death Eater in the making! And don't even get me started on _Rosier_, Rina. They're both little balls of evil, I bet they want to join You-Know-Who as soon as they graduate!"

"First of all, I think you're just jealous that he's Lily's best friend," I snapped. "Second, I don't really care much for Rosier, but you don't know him very well, so stop making assumptions. Third..." I glared at his hands, which had unconsciously been shaking me back and forth. "Can you let go?"

He let go. "Right. Sorry." Pause. "I am not jealous!"

"That's nice, James." I looked out the window. "Oh, is that Hogwarts?"

They peered out the glass, my brother squishing me. I guessed correctly that he was still peeved about the jealous comment. "Yeah, that's Hogwarts. Bit far away, but you can see the lights."

My heart clenched. Even though I'd read all about Hogwarts, now that I was actually about to attend as a student it was hard not to feel excited. Moving staircases and hidden paths, yet to be blocked like they were in Harry's time, delicious feasts and just brimming with _magic_...

When the train stopped, I was nearly glowing from the suspense. As I'd told Lily earlier, I was guessing I'd be in Ravenclaw, maybe Slytherin, but for my purposes I had to convince the Hat not to put me in the House of snakes. Ravenclaw was the only House the snakes had any sort of respect for, even if it was glancing at best, but the meager respect and tolerance was far preferable to the open hostility and contempt the Slytherins reserved for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. As a Ravenclaw, I would be able to observe from the shadows and get along with everyone no matter the House.

Stepping off the train, I scanned the crowd for the enormous figure that was Hagrid. I was still searching when James pointed him out, grinning and yelling "HAGRID!" while waving enthusiastically. Following his line of sight, I gaped.

The man was _huge_. And kind of scary.

"'Ello, James!" The half-giant boomed back, lifting one large hand. The lantern in the other swung dangerously. "That your baby sister there?"

Heads swung. I could have smacked something. Way to keep a low cover.

The Marauders, dragging me along, had pushed and shoved their way to the front, grinning up at Hagrid. (Well, kind of; Pettigrew just whimpered and mustered up a shaky twist of the lips.) Sirius and Remus exchanged greetings with the man and then he was staring at me.

"Looks almost exactly like yer mum," he observed. From the mass of bushy dark hair, his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Pretty little thing, her - I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts." He thrust out a hand the size of a dustbin. "Call me Hagrid though."

Relaxing at the warmth and kindness practically radiating from him, I smiled and took his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Hagrid. James has told me all about you. I'm Carina Potter."

"Carina, eh? Could've sworn yer name was Rina."

"A nickname."

"Ah." He nodded and raised a brow at the four boys around me. "Don't ye have a carriage to catch?" The boys, realizing they were the only non-first years around, panicked and ran off, James stopping to give me a brief hug.

I sighed and followed Hagrid to the boats, gingerly getting into one with two girls and one boy. Time for Hogwarts.

The butterflies in my stomach multiplied.


	9. Chapter 9

We stumbled up a flight of stone steps, silenced by the sheer beauty and splendor of Hogwarts, and crowded around the large oak doors, occasionally bursting into whispered bouts of conversations. I caught a glimpse of Phoebe Aprils and her twin braids somewhere in the throng of first years but only had time to flash her a brief smile before my line of sight was blocked by other nervous eleven year olds.

Hagrid raised his giant hand and knocked thrice on the door.

Immediately, it swung open, revealing a severe-looking woman in pristine green robes and jet black hair gathered into a low bun, not a single strand out of line. From the no-nonsense aura around her I immediately guessed she was Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor Head of House James had told me so much about. I wondered if my brother was plain stupid or ridiculously brave if he'd dared to cross this woman as many times as he'd assured me he had, along with his merry crew of devils.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

She nodded briskly. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

We timidly followed her into the castle, several inhaling sharply at the sheer size of the entrance hall, the stone walls flickering with firelight from the torches secured against them. It took my breath away - the place brimmed with energy and mystery not five steps in, how would the rest of the school be like?

The professor directed us to a small, empty chamber to side of the Great Hall, where the buzzing of conversations drifted out of the large ornate doors. We filtered in, peering around cautiously, for once united in our collective nervousness. I shifted away from a pudgy boy with bushy eyebrows, eyeing his green face warily. That one didn't deal with stress well.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said, looking around at everyone. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts." My mind flashed to James's smiling, expectant face and thought guiltily of crushing his hopes that I would be placed into Gryffindor with him. "You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

I tuned out the part explaining the Houses and the characteristics they each sought, having heard the same from my father (though far less professional and far more biased, especially toward the Slytherins... outside of our mother's exceptional hearing range, of course). Instead, I took the time to casually pick out the purebloods I would have to watch out for during the next seven years. The ones with closer ties between their families had already huddled together, eyeing the gathered witches and wizards suspiciously, heads raised arrogantly. I failed to recognize them in the dim lighting.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as possible while you are waiting."

Her sharp eyes lingered on a few students, meeting mine before looking away almost immediately. I was suddenly thankful for the ridiculously complicated hairdos my mum and Nelly had forced upon my locks, remembering James's own uncontrollable hair inherited from our dad. The group I had labeled as purebloods looked scornfully at the people trying to fix themselves, making no attempt to alter their appearance. Purebloods were urged to remain the vision of perfection in the eyes of the public, after all. (James and Black were just abnormal. And they didn't care.)

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

With that, she left.

I made no attempt to start talking, still unsure of who was who, and stood there quietly with one eye constantly fixed on the band of purebloods near the edge of the group. All around me people were tentatively striking up conversations, sometimes about what House they'd like to be in, wondering how they would be sorted... The purebloods looked bored. For once, I could sympathize.

Then some people behind us screamed, and I whirled around, hand flying to the wand snug in my hidden holster under one sleeve -

- Ghosts. You've got to be bleeding kidding me. They screamed over _ghosts_.

About twenty of them had randomly floated through the wall, engaged in an argument that was all too familiar for me. Harry had been witness to the same exact disagreement.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" The Fat Friar had seemingly, much an air of mild surprise, noticed us gaping up at them.

"We are here to wait for Professor McGonagall to lead us in to be sorted," someone said. A minute later, I realized that it had been me. After a horrified shriek inside my head, I figured I'd already dug my grave and went for it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The Friar blinked, caught off guard - as it had been with Harry, I supposed that not many answered his questions. He recovered swiftly and smiled, welcoming. "Pleasure for us too, child. Hope to see you in Hufflepuff - my old House, you know."

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." McGonagall had returned, and led us into the Great Hall, where we shuffled into one line, desperately trying to ignore the curious gazes of the older students. A few of the shyer first years shrank into themselves in an attempt to ward off the thousands of eyes watching us.

A glance upward confirmed that the ceiling was, indeed, enchanted to reflect the sky outside, and was brightly lit with millions of twinkling stars. Comforted at the beautiful sight I looked back down and saw that McGonagall had placed a four-legged stool in front of us, with the shabby and ancient Sorting Hat, which just looked like any other pointed hat with the simple exception that it was extraordinarily dirty.

I didn't listen to the Hat sing, subtly casting a glance around the enormous Great Hall. According to _Hogwarts, A History,_ the Gryffindors were against the far left, then Ravenclaws, followed by the Hufflepuffs and finally the Slytherins right next to the wall on the right. Good move, I thought, eyeing the distance between the Houses, keeping Slytherin and Gryffindor apart from each other. Otherwise there would have been manslaughter within the first week every year.

"Affable, Miriam!"

McGonagall had started calling people up to the stool, it seemed. A lanky blonde with freckles quickly moved up, eyes flickering everywhere in a blatant show of anxiety. Hesitantly, she pulled the Hat over her head, and the entire hall waited in anticipation.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table next in from the left burst into cheers, several standing up to warmly welcome the flushed girl into their midst. Miriam looked genuinely pleased at the kindness of her housemates, and I wondered if the other Houses would be as enthusiastic as the Hufflepuffs had been.

"Aprils, Phoebe!"

A vaguely familiar girl tripped up to take her seat on the stool, putting on the Hat with visibly trembling hands. With some surprise I recognized her as the girl I'd taught the Point Me spell to back on the Hogwarts Express, and clapped politely as she was sorted into Hufflepuff as well.

Benton, Juliette was sorted into Ravenclaw, which I didn't expect considering her painfully shy demeanor. Brigham, Daniel was the first Gryffindor, and was greeted with thumps on the back that nearly made him faceplant into the ground amongst loud, fierce cheers. So far the three Houses had been sincere in welcoming their newcomers, but I had yet to see the Slytherins.

They were quieter than the others, but no less enthusiastic, remaining dignified as they ushered Gabriel Crabbe to the table. Their welcoming committee resembled that of Ravenclaw.

I arched a brow as Connolly, Ryan caught my eye and winked, walking to the Ravenclaw table proudly. Connolly... why did that name seem familiar? I was positive he hadn't been a large part of the series, though, just as I was sure Rosier hadn't been. They must not have been important enough. Though, I noticed, Connolly was definitely on the attractive side.

"Potter, Carina!"

I held my chin up as I walked up to the stool, taking my time and ignoring the probing eyes of the amassed students. Pausing before the Hat, I glanced briefly at Dumbledore, whose blue eyes were twinkled madly. And that was all the encouragement I needed. I sat down.

_Well, well, well,_ a small voice mused in my ear. _Miss Potter. You're as different from your brother as night and day, and - what's this? You've already learned how to raise mental barriers?_ I felt him prodding at one that led to the memories from my previous life. _Interesting... _

_I've had some help with it,_ I informed it. As an afterthought, I added, _Sir._

As a matter of fact, Aella had assured me beforehand that she would serve as the guardian of my mind, protecting invaluable information, when I'd once voiced my concerns about legilimency to her. I was especially grateful for it now.

_And a perfect lady, too. _It sounded amused. _But that's all a mask, isn't it? Cunning and clever, though a bit too young to worry yourself with politics and power plays. _

_Never too young for anything other than drugs and alcohol._

It was curious now. _Not even death?_

_ Especially not death._

_Very well, _the Hat said after a brief pause. _I suppose you already know you're not much of a Hufflepuff? Nor a Gryffindor, I'm afraid, though you've certainly got courage and loyalty to rival that of your brother._

I shrugged mentally. _I was thinking Ravenclaw._

_ Not Slytherin? Slytherin would be good for you, the cunning folk, not a thing misses their shrewd minds... No? _

_ It wouldn't exactly do to have a sister of the beloved James Potter to be a Slytherin,_ I reminded it. _So no, thank you._

I thought that if it had a head, it would have been nodding. _True, very true... then better be _RAVENCLAW!

Taking off the Hat with a satisfied smile, I handed it back to McGonagall and strolled to the Ravenclaw table, where I was seated next to the Connolly boy from before, the cheers and applauding deafening.

Connolly grinned and stuck out a hand. "Hello," he said brightly. "Name's Ryan Connolly, it's brilliant to meet you."

I eyed him for a moment before taking the offered hand. "You're very happy," I observed, shaking it and letting go. "I'm Carina Potter, it's nice to meet you too." He grinned and we started talking in a low undertone, clapping along with the others every now and then. I just loved how I didn't have to bother with formalities with him, because he just didn't strike me as one.

Soon enough the Sorting was over and done with, one Adriana Zabini being sorted into Slytherin, and I was too immersed in conversation to heed Dumbledore's words, which sounded vaguely like "_Stay out of the Forbidden Forest_" but I really wasn't sure. Probably imagining things.

(Because like _hell_ I wasn't going in there at least once in my school years.)

Friendly chatter sprang up around us once the food - Merlin, the _food_ - arrived, and I was finally beginning to relax when a shriek from the Gryffindor table made me jump. Twisting around, I caught a glimpse of a ghost drifting away and several first years looking either fascinated or revolted. "What...?"

"Must be Nearly Headless Nick again," an older girl remarked, casting a glance at the table beside ours. "He's the Gryffindor ghost, and he likes scaring the first years by showing everyone exactly why he's called that."

Connolly reached for a slice of pumpkin pie. "How's he 'nearly headless?'"

"His head's connected to his neck by a thin piece of flesh," the girl shrugged. She smiled. "I'm Beatrice Bierce, third year - just call me Bea. And you're Carina Potter, of course, James's little sister."

"I'm Ryan Connolly," the boy said. "Apparently not important enough."

"Oh, stop teasing," I scolded. "Here, have a treacle tart and be quiet." Stuffing it into his mouth, which he had opened no doubt to launch a witty remark back my way, I looked at the girl. "Does everyone know my brother?"

She laughed, but it was the boy sitting across from her who answered. "Oh, for sure," he said. "A bit hard to forget the kid who managed to turn the entire third floor corridor into a desert, complete with scorpions and cacti. Slughorn was having a field day, of course, gathered as many snakes and scorpions as he could, said they were some rare breed..." He shook his head, curly russet hair bouncing. "I'm Anthony Culbert, also third year."

"It's very nice to meet you both," I said politely. The conversation drifted and I ate quietly, occasionally making an input here and there. I was coaxing some words out of the shy Juliette Benton when the topic of blood statuses came around. Immediately, I was all ears, while maintaining casual conversation with Juliette on a recently published novel by celebrated writer Josslyn Mayfair.

Fellow first year Harper Crispin shrugged. "My mum's a witch, but my dad's a Muggle, though he already knew about us through his brother, who was a Muggleborn. Dad's obsessed with magic, thinks it's fascinating, bit odd he believes everything considering he's a _scientist_ of all things..."

"He's got no choice but to believe it, doesn't he?" Clay Morton pointed out. "My mum's a Muggle, but my dad's a wizard. Mum thought I was normal until I used accidental magic as a kid and turned the dog blue. Yelled at my dad after he finally told her but she's fascinated, wants him to do magic every day now." I winced; that could have gone very badly.

Imogen Keene sighed. "I'm a Muggleborn, thought the letter was a bad joke and burned it the first couple times, then someone from Hogwarts came and explained... my parents were thrilled, but I was terrified." She looked sheepish. "Thought I'd be behind everyone else, you know, being a Muggleborn and all... hit the books as soon as we got home from Diagon Alley, though I couldn't do any of the spells." She and Emmanuel Lloyd had a bonding moment over their Muggleborn status.

"Potter's a famous pureblood family, that I know." Harper cut in. "I think my mum had a crush on your dad when they went to Hogwarts together..." Laughing at my disgusted "Oh Merlin, _no_" she continued. "So what about the rest of you? Connolly, was it?"

He shrugged. "Pureblood, though not as famous as Potter here."

What.

I nearly snapped my neck looking at him. "What?! But - but I didn't greet you properly!" I bit my lip. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm not as familiar with Irish pureblood houses, I must have been so rude -"

"Oh yeah, you purebloods have your own way of talking and such, right? Isn't it really rude to talk casually?"

"You're not helping, Morton," Connolly said. "Oh relax, Potter, it's not like anyone but my mum uses the proper etiquette anyway. You don't have to worry about slighting our family over _that_, you numbskull."

I scowled, but let it slide considering my lack of manners before.

"I'm not a pureblood, but my mother was a Fournier, though. My dad's also a wizard." Juliette Benton spoke up quietly. "My sister will be coming to Hogwarts next year, if she doesn't go to Beauxbatons."

I twisted around to look at her. "Fournier? The French pureblood family?" She nodded.

"Was?" Connolly asked quietly. The table quieted.

Juliette looked uncomfortable. "She died when I was six," she finally said. "It... it was the war." The air sombered even more. "We were camping and Pére had taken Jacinthe to look for her locket, and I was with Mére when she told me to hide, and..."

I touched her shoulder. She leaned in, head bowed.

"Your mother must have loved you very much," Emmanuel told her softly. "My mother walked out on us when I was a baby, just because my dad was a wizard." He shrugged. "My stepmum's a lot nicer."

Talk of such depressing things limited the chatter and we finished eating in silence. As the prefects led us to the fifth floor, where stairs leading to the Ravenclaw tower were. I walked beside the Fournier legacy, offering her a silent form of comfort.

"The Ravenclaw Tower requires a riddle to get in, rather than passwords like some of the Houses," the prefect, a tall dark-skinned girl with short hair, said. "If you don't get it right, then you have to figure it out or wait for someone else to come along."

That... was highly inconvenient.

The prefect - I forgot her name - knocked, and the beak of the bronze eagle knocker opened. A melodic voice asked, "I am always hungry, I must always be fed, the finger I touch shall soon turn red - what am I?"

The girl pondered this for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Fire."

"Indeed," the voice said The door swung open.

The common room was airy and round, with stars painted on the domed ceiling. In the daytime I was sure that we'd have a wonderful view of the Hogwarts ground during the day. I caught a glimpse of a marble statue, most likely in the likeness of Rowena Ravenclaw, before we were herded off to the dormitories - girls to the left, boys to the right.

Harper Crispin launched herself at the bed closest to the windows. "Mine!"

"No one's going to duel you for it, Crispin," I said, walking over to the one right in the middle. "I'll be taking this one, though." Juliette wordlessly sat down on the bed to the left of mine, where her trunk had been placed already. Imogen Keene claimed the one on my right, and when we looked the last one had been taken by a slim, willowy girl with ash brown hair fashioned into a pixie cut.

She looked up from taking out her pajamas. "Yes?"

"Didn't see you at the feast," Harper shrugged. She hopped off the bed, onto which she'd bellyflopped, and stopped in front of the unfamiliar girl. "I'm Harper Crispin."

The girl rummaged around her trunk and surfaced with glasses in hand. "Sorry, I just took out my contacts." She smiled, teeth showing. "I'm Adelheid Farber, pleased to meet you."

"Adelheid?" Crispin let the name roll over her tongue. "... You got a nickname?"

"Not really, no."

The chatty girl chewed her lip, arms crossed. "Hm... Del? Adel?"

"Del sounds better," I called from changing into my sleeping gown. "Hi, I'm Carina Potter, by the way. Some people call me Rina."

Adelheid shrugged. "A name's a name, I s'pose." She turned to the girl to my left, quietly shedding her robes. "And who're you?"

"Juliette Benton," was the reply. "It's nice to meet you."

"And I'm Imogen, Imogen Keene," the girl waved, yanking a brush through her chestnut brown locks. "Ow, ow, ow..." She took the smooth-hair gel from Juliette gratefully and squirted a generous amount onto the teeth of her brush.

Suddenly feeling tired, I decided to take a shower in the morning and carefully unbraided my hair, thankful that Nelly's magic didn't require numerous little pins that I would have needed as a Muggle. With the help of Juliette Benton, I managed to free myself of the elaborate hairstyle and looked up to see the room staring at the process, fascinated.

"Blimey, Potter," Crispin said, staring at my waist-length black hair, "I'm sort of glad I'm not a pureblood if that's what's required of you." I groaned and pulled a comb through it. She had no idea.

Adelheid Farber eyed my long hair and reached up to touch her own short one.

"Worst thing is, the stupid thing always grows back right after I cut it," I told them unhappily. "It doesn't listen to me, only other people. A right pain in the arse, it is. Hateful thing."

Imogen looked at the wavy locks in awe. "How do you take care of it all?"

"Magic," I said dryly. Then winced as the comb caught a snare. "Oh bloody hell - !"

Juliette was studying the absurd length closely. "My mum had long hair like yours," she said at length. "Always complained of it, so I had to cut it for her."

"You mean - ?" I brightened.

She nodded. "I could cut it for you now, if you want. I promise not to make it look dreadful, I've had a fair bit of practice with my mum and sister, she's inherited it..." I squealed and grabbed her hands, leaping up from the bed excitedly.

"I'd be so grateful if you did!" Grinning like a lunatic, I dragged her to the vanity across from my bed. "Do you have scissors? Or a knife, that'll do - "

"No, no, I have scissors," she broke in hastily. She dug through her trunk and came back with a small silver pair in hand. "How long do you - ?"

"Just past my shoulders would be lovely," I said eagerly. "A little longer, actually," I added, remembering my mother... and James. Oh Merlin and Morgana, James - he'd throw a fit, he loved my hair long. Even as children he enjoyed placing flowers and little bits of ribbons in it, and though it looked messy I always kept them until Mum or Nelly would forcibly remove them.

Well. He would live. It was _my_ hair and it was bloody impossible to deal with.

So the locks fell, coating the ground around the stool I was perched on, and excuse me if I say that it looked _good_. Examining the newly shortened hair along with my dorm mates, I asked, "Have you ever considered a career in hairstyling?"

"Well, no," Juliette said, flushing delicately. "It's just a hobby, really, I was leaning more toward teaching..."

"Teaching?" Adelheid looked interested. "As in, at Hogwarts?"

The girl blushed to the roots of her dark golden hair. "Ah, well, I was thinking Beauxbatons, my mum was Professor of Dancing there..."

Seeing that she was about to combust from her shyness, I clapped. "Well, that's brilliant, I think you'd be excellent. Now..." Pointed glance at dark sky outside. "I say we go to bed. Wouldn't want to be late for first day of classes, right?"

Harper and Imogen grumbled, but nevertheless readied themselves for bed. Soon enough the lights were out and I could already hear someone - prime suspect being Harper - snoring. Shifting under the silky blue covers, I burrowed into the pillow, staring at the curtains, listening to the wind outside. I ought to have been alarmed, but it was oddly soothing, and then I was nodding off.

My plans for the future could wait... sleep first.

I could almost hear Aella's exasperated sighs.


	10. Chapter 10

James, as expected, threw a fit.

He'd looked up to say good morning as I passed by the Gryffindor table with my dorm mates and had taken one look at the noticeably shorter hair, pulled into a low ponytail, before flipping out. With no regard to the startled cries from fellow Gryffindors around him, he'd stood up abruptly, knocking over a goblet, and hurried over, grabbing me by the arm and hauling me out of the Great Hall.

Sirius and Peter had followed, bemused, while Remus took a little longer, deciding to be a dear and excuse me from my bewildered friends.

"Your - you cut - what - " James was sputtering. He pointed at my hair and let out a garbled yell.

I glanced at it in a show of casualness. "Oh, yeah," I said, as if I'd just noticed it. "I asked Juliette to cut it for me, it looks wonderful. The girl has talent - "

"Your hair!" he moaned, shaking me back and forth. "Your beautiful long hair! Why'd you cut it?"

Incredulous, I stared at him. "Have you _seen_ how long it was?"

"Yes!"

"It was getting ridiculous, and there's no way I can do the fancy hairdos Mum and Nelly can," I said, ignoring him. "To make my life easier I cut it. And surprise, it _is_ easier to handle!"

He didn't seem to hear a single word. "But your _hair!"_ he wailed.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, James," I snapped, "you sound like such a _girl_ right now. It's _my_ hair, and I'll do as I want!"

My brother sulked. "Mum'll be upset."

"Mum can deal with it." Scoffing at his gloomy expression, I turned to head back into the Great Hall. "Besides, that's why I didn't cut it like a boy's, because of her. She ought to be happy I kept it this long."

He looked at Sirius grimly. "D'you happen to have any Quick-Gro potions? For her hair?"

"James!"

Sirius looked conflicted between backing away slowly and laughing madly. "Sorry mate, I don't."

"Surprising given your hair," I muttered, glancing at it. His hair was shiny and black and long enough to be pulled back into a small pony at the nape of his neck.

He bristled, James left forgotten in the background to mope. "I do not use beauty products!"

Remus leaned in. "He _does_ spend hours in front of the mirror, though."

"Remus!" Black looked outraged. "How could you?"

His friend shrugged, trying and failing to look remorseful. "Sorry, but it's true. We have to drag you out of the bathroom to get to classes on time." He winked at me when Black's back was turned, though. I muffled my snickers, though he threw me a filthy look at the coughed "_Narcissist!_"

"James, c'mon," Black sighed. "It's just a bit of _hair_, it's bound to grow back. And it's not like she's bald or anything." His friend looked horrified at the thought. "See? She's still got pretty long hair, it's fine."

I batted my eyelashes. "Aww, you think my hair's pretty, Black? Why, _thank_ you!"

"That's not what I meant at all!"

James looked up. "It _is_ pretty." He turned his head, pouting faintly. "... And it's even prettier when it's _long_."

It was incredible how he was my elder brother by one year, by the way he was acting. I threw my hands up. "Oh for heaven's sake, James! It's _hair!_ Stop being so - so - so immature about it all, would you? Or I really _will_ go and ask Juliette to lop it all off!"

"You wouldn't!" he gasped, aghast. Obviously he knew I would and deflated. Just how many years have we been living together, after all? "Alright, fine. Just... take some of Sirius's hair-growing potions, okay?"

Black slapped a hand over his forehead and dragged it down. "For the last time," he grumped, "I don't use hair products! It's all natural!"

"Well... this wasn't the sight I was expecting when I came down for breakfast."

A cool new voice floated down to where we were standing, and I looked up to see the languidly amused form of Evan Rosier on the stairs, gazing down at us. He nodded casually at the boys and shifted his gaze to me, lazily raising a hand. "Morning... I suppose."

Apparently etiquette wasn't a requirement anymore. Finally.

"Morning, Heir Rosier." I turned back to Black, feeling a pair of dark eyes boring into the back of my head. "But really, Black - if James insists, I suppose I have no choice but to borrow your beauty products, right?"

He spluttered. "I do not use beauty products!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling." My sympathetic pat on his arm didn't seem to alleviate his ire any, but that was of no importance to me. He could go whine and cry after I left their company. I looked at my brother, who was muttering to himself darkly. "James. I won't cut my hair for a full year after this, alright? So stop complaining and take it like a man already."

James contemplated it. "Deal." Pause. "And are you insinuating that I'm not manly?" He seethed at my pitying smile, but I waved it off and headed back into the Great Hall, smiling warmly at Remus.

And Peter. I think. Maybe. He was just kind of there.

"What was that all about?" Harper asked as I slid in beside Juliette. The former reached for a jar of strawberry jam. "I didn't quite imagine the infamous James Potter to be that way."

I grabbed a goblet and asked Emmanuel to please pass the orange juice. "Oh, don't worry. It's just me."

She eyed me shrewdly. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

"It's sarcasm."

"Right. Got ya."

Adelheid nudged Imogen awake right before the brunette face-planted into her bowl of cereal. "So what classes do we have today?"

"First we have History of Magic," Emmanuel Lloyd said, buttering his toast. He nodded his head at two unfamiliar boys when they sat down across from him, looking half-asleep. "The one that Binns teaches, that ghost who forgot he died. Something along those lines."

Connolly brightened by a fraction from where he'd been blinking blearily down at his plate. "Oh, excellent," he said, stifling a yawn. "Means more time to sleep for us."

"Connolly!" He didn't so much as flinch as I slapped his shoulder. "It's the first day of classes, have you no shame?"

He stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. "Oh, blimey," he said, "it's just you, Potter."

"I've been here for the past five minutes, sitting next to you."

"Yeah, well, I don't function well in the morning."

I scoffed. "I don't think you function very well in general, but I'll let it slide this time." Leaving him to puzzle over that, I took a bite of bacon and nearly swooned. Heaven. "So what's after that, Lloyd?"

Emmanuel dug the parchment with our schedule out of his bag and scrutinized it. Meanwhile, I was staring round at the rest of the first years, wondering if the two of us were the only ones somewhat alright in the morning. And Juliette, but she was quietly eating, so I wasn't sure if she was fully awake or not. Considering my tendency to kick and scream when I was awoken before noon, I was surprised to see that I was faring better than the majority of the first year Ravenclaws gathered at the dining table. Perhaps it was due to the excess magic in the air that would be entirely unnoticeable if one wasn't looking for it that I was awake.

Feeling oddly smug, I tuned back into my conversation with Emmanuel. "After Binns we have Charms with Flitwick and then it's lunch." He was interrupted as the black-haired boy I hadn't seen at the feast collapsed onto him, snoring lightly.

"... Who's he?" I stared as Emmanuel swore under his breath and tried to shove the much taller boy off. Clay Morton snorted and reached out to grab the back of the unfamiliar face's robes, reeling him back and off of the flailing and slighter Lloyd. Out of breath and visibly irritated, Emmanuel promptly shot Morton a grateful look and then a dirty one at the boy with the black crew cut, which went ignored seeing as the latter had started snoring on the table surface.

"That," said Emmanuel, "is Jacob Winthrop. He's in our year and he's bloody impossible to wake up."

"Please excuse him," a quiet voice cut in, and I turned my head to see the other unfamiliar face staring apologetically at Jacob Winthrop. The boy smiled and nodded. "I suppose you haven't seen me last night either. I'm Ramsey, Quinn Ramsey. I already know you, of course, Ryan over there wouldn't shut up about you - "

I fixed a gaze on the Irish pureblood, who was still out of it. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yes," Quinn assured me. "You're Carina Potter, aren't you?"

It took me a while to answer, being a bit distracted at the amusing sight of Emmanuel irritably yanking at Winthrop's collar, trying to pull him off of his shoulder yet again. I didn't quite realize he knew so many swear words. "Oh, pardon me," I said, blinking rapidly. "Yes, yes I am, it's wonderful to meet you."

"And," he continued, "would that be your brother?"

Turning to see where he was nodding, I saw James drilling a hole into the back of my head - or more precisely, my hair. Shorter hair. I turned back around.

"You are mistaken." Stabbing a piece of fried egg with my fork, I smiled demurely. "That is not my brother. In fact, I do not have a sibling. Only child, you see."

Connolly woke up all of a sudden, jerking his head up and nearly giving me a heart attack. "Bollocks," he said accusingly, crossing his arms. "That's your brother all right, don't be so nasty Potter!"

Instead of sparing him with a response I grabbed the first piece of food I saw and shoved it into his mouth. Smiling pleasantly at Quinn Ramsey, I gestured to the choking Irish beside me. "Don't mind him," I said. "He's delusional at best and clinically insane at worst."

Ryan Connolly made a muffled and somewhat strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like "What's the bloody difference" but I just patted him on the cheek sympathetically, cooing, "There, there, eat your breakfast, dearie."

I turned back to Quinn solemnly. "You see? Quite off his rockers."

"I'm sure." He sounded amused but directed his attention to his breakfast instead.

Smart boy. (I think I like this kid.)

While Connolly was busy gasping for breath, having finally swallowed that monstrous piece of sausage I'd stuffed down his throat, I surveyed the Great Hall discretely. Having read the Harry Potter series and therefore the actions of one Draco Malfoy, I wanted to know if pureblood etiquette could be discarded while at Hogwarts. Because let's face it, Malfoy was a downright prat to my nephew, acting in a horribly undignified manner that was decidedly not the pureblood way to go.

And his rich daddy didn't seem to have a problem with it, either.

I recognized a few faces from previous balls that our parents had dragged us to, such as one Frank Longbottom and Portia Macmillan. They were relaxed at their respective tables with their friends, chatting almost lazily and even dragging one into a playful headlock at one point (Longbottom, not Macmillan). The two of them didn't seem to follow the pureblood rules much...

... But seeing as they were from Light families, that didn't mean shit to me.

So I cast my gaze over to the Slytherins, careful not to linger too long. Wizards had dueled for less than a single look that had struck a wrong chord within them. The Zabini girl was calmly looking through her bag, looking nothing short of perfect, but my heart skipped a beat when her tawny eyes flashed up and met mine.

Well, shit. So much for being inconspicuous.

She sent me a cool smile that was more of a curl of the lips than anything, and resumed her search. I released the breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. Adriana Zabini was most likely the mother of a briefly mentioned character in the series that had somehow or another caught my attention. His name - Blaise Zabini - sounded so _Italian_, and I confess, I've always had a thing for Italians.

But I digress.

Zabini was pretty even for an eleven year old, and I possessed no doubt that she would grow up to be a stunning woman. As if her physical beauty wasn't good enough, her aura practically screamed PUREBLOOD HEIRESS.

Interesting that she didn't interact much with her year mates though.

Making a mental note to observe the girl later I was scanning the Slytherin table when the hall was filled with owls of every shape and size and color, swooping down to drop their deliveries to the right person. Mail by owl, and quite the sight.

Connolly gave a girly shriek and nearly jumped out of his skin as a large Great Grey dumped a parcel on his head, knocking him sideways and into me. He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat, sitting up straight. "That never happened."

I eyed the pink tinge on his cheeks. "Of course."

The Great Grey came to a halt on the table before the flustered Irish, ruffling its feathers irritably and snapping up a bit of toast from its owner's plate. It then proceeded to glare at him with large amber eyes, taking some bacon.

"I think it's upset," I remarked idly. "Have you done something terrible, Connolly?"

The strawberry blond gave his owl a guilty smile. "Sorry, boy. I guess I forgot you at home didn't I."

The glare intensified. I marveled at the utter ease with which the owl pulled it off.

"Potter, meet Hamlet," Connolly introduced. "Hamlet, meet Potter. She's my friend." He jabbed me in the ribs with an elbow. I returned the favor twice as hard.

"It's very nice to meet you," I greeted, feeling ridiculous.

I must've done something right, because the owl - Hamlet, I reminded myself - looked noticeably less miffed and ruffled his feathers before taking flight. As soon as he was gone, I raised a brow at Connolly.

"You forgot your owl at home?"

"Shut up, Potter. I was busy."

With a last skeptical look I shrugged and let it slide as a familiar brown and white form glided my way. Sure enough our family owl flapped her wings and stopped in front of my plate, holding an envelope in her beak expectantly.

"Thank you Clove." She hooted and accepted the bread I held out, tearing into it with gusto as I took out the letter and read it thoroughly. Mum and Dad had written.

Juliette was staring at the owl when I stowed the letter away in my bag, deciding to leave the reply for later. I'd just bully James into letting me borrow Orpheus. "What a lovely bird."

"She's our mother's favorite," I said, washing down breakfast with a goblet of juice. "Mum always liked owls, and whenever Dad does something stupid he'd apologize by giving her a new one to care for, and... yep." Stroking the soft feathers I smiled and stood; the owl took it as her cue to leave and flapped her wings, soon disappearing.

"C'mon," Harper agreed, slinging her bag strap over one shoulder. "We've got Binns now."

Imogen downed her goblet and joined us as we waited for the others by the doors. "I wonder how classes will be like?"

"Well they can't be too bad, right?" Adelheid said.

Behind her, Clay Morton scoffed. "Five Galleons says it is."

* * *

**AN: Readers, I apologize for the delay. Life's been insufferable and even as I'm writing this my head feels like it's going to split open.**

**Pleasant. Real pleasant.**

**Anyway, thank you for your support, and I hope you'll keep reading Mosaic!**

**- Beni**


	11. Chapter 11

Morton looked disgustingly pleased as a disgruntled Adelheid slapped five Galleons into his palm.

Having just escaped from the History of Magic classroom and Binns, my mind was still a bit groggy, and looking around it was obvious that the rest of the Ravenclaws were just as befuddled upon waking. The class was absolute murder - even for knowledge-loving people like us, it was impossible not to fall asleep. I'd managed to hold out longer than my year mates, but had succumbed to sleep in the middle of a winding narrative of Emeric the Evil's life.

I briefly wondered how Hermione could have stayed awake in that class before Harper was tugging me forward, in a desperate attempt to place more distance between her and the classroom.

"That was bloody murder," she grumbled, walking quickly to our next destination. I was pretty sure that Charms wouldn't nearly be as bad as Binns had been, in a rare moment of optimism. "Can't they just exorcise him or something? Not like we're ever going to _learn_ something, heavens forbid..."

Connolly caught up and walked to my right, stretching languidly. "I dunno," he said, "that was alright, I got to sleep some more - "

"You have no shame," I told him.

My comment was duly ignored. "Personally I'm looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts," the Irish pureblood commented, repositioning the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "There've been rumors that the position is cursed, you know, never had a professor teach for more than one year they say..."

Of course, they didn't know that the rumors were in fact truth, the position indeed having been cursed by the Dark Lord before he rose as Voldemort. I was curious to see who our professor would be, and if he or she would prove capable of actually teaching. Should we be landed with a Gilderoy Lockhart then I was going to break something.

Charms with Flitwick was infinitely better than the sorry excuse of a class with Binns. Him being the Head of Ravenclaw helped with the friendly atmosphere between the students and the professor, and when class ended we were all sorry to go. Flitwick was a brilliant wizard despite his short stature and I had no doubt that all rumors of him having been a dueling master in his youth were true.

After a delicious lunch we headed out to the courtyard, where we snagged a spot under a large tree, relaxing in the shade. September had always been my favorite month because it was a perfect blend of winter and summer, the middle ground. Not too warm, not too cold. Feeling lazy with a full stomach, we lapsed into comfortable silence, occasionally chatting amongst ourselves.

"Any of you play Quidditch?"

I tore my eyes away from where they'd been staring at Juliette, who was flipping through a thick tome, and fixated them on Morton. He was lying on his back with his head propped up on his robes, which he had taken off, and had thrown an arm over his eyes.

"Merlin, Quidditch," Connolly laughed, eyes closed. "Of course I do, been flying since I was four. My uncle's a bit of a fanatic, see, and Dad thought it'd be amusing to let him have his way."

Lloyd looked up from his History of Magic notes, which looked as if a chicken had tap-danced its way through his parchment. "Quidditch?" he repeated. "What's that?"

There was a brief, stunned silence before those from wizarding families burst out into rants. I looked on mildly, occasionally looking down at the book on ancient dragons in my hands. (The memory of Harry's fourth year stood out clearly in my mind. It hadn't happened yet, but I wanted to be able to help in any way possible... if I was still around.)

"Okay, okay," Imogen interrupted, holding her hands up. "You forget that we're Muggleborn - we don't know a lot of things about the wizarding world. Quidditch is one of those things."

Harper collected herself first, which surprised me, and took a deep breath. "Right, sorry. Quidditch is the most popular wizarding sport you'll ever find," she started. "It's played on brooms and there are seven people on each team."

"Three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper, and one Seeker," Winthrop jumped in, sitting up. It was discovered that when wide awake, he made an excellent conversationalist. "There are four balls; one Quaffle, two Bludgers, and one Golden Snitch."

Ramsey broke in, probably seeing that Lloyd and Imogen were overwhelmed. "I don't much enjoy playing it myself," he said quietly, "but it is fun to watch a game. It's a very intense sport, and definitely not recommended for people with a phobia of heights."

"Hogwarts has Quidditch matches," I added. Morton and Harper looked a bit frustrated by the repetition of what they already knew, but I ignored them. Being plucked out of the Muggle world and into an entirely different one was bound to be intimidating and confusing at first, there was no need to make the transition harder by dumping information on them all in one go. "It's played by Houses, but it's forbidden for first years to join the team due to the dangers of the sport."

Not that it stopped my nephew. Somehow, I felt triumphant.

"Yes, yes." Winthrop waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, there are three goal posts for each team, and it's the Keeper's job to prevent Chasers from scoring by throwing the Quaffle through them."

The two Muggleborn first years looked baffled.

I grabbed a tree branch from nearby and leaned in, scratching out the three goal posts on each end of the arena I'd just drawn. "These are the goal posts; it's the Keeper's job to fly around and block any attempts at scoring. Envision basketball in the air, on brooms."

Understanding dawned on their faces, but others looked a bit confused. "What's basketball?" Connolly asked.

"Forget it," I said simply. "It's a Muggle sport."

Meanwhile, Morton had been staring at my crude illustration. "Potter, you're terrible at drawing."

"Shut up, I'm doing the best I can with dirt and a stick," I snapped back. "You weren't doing a too brilliant job of explaining the sport, either."

The attempt to explain Quidditch to the Muggleborns was paused as Morton and I bickered, the others watching on in amusement.

"Ickle firsties!" An all-too familiar broke in and I groaned, cutting Morton off mid-sentence. "Awww, is little princess having a fight with her boyfriend?"

Black dodged the rock I hurled at his head with infuriating ease. "You're a menace to society," I sneered.

"Funny, I think the same of you."

The Marauders had invaded our territory, it seemed. James plopped down beside me with no regard for Adelheid, who shuffled back to avoid being sat on. She didn't seem offended, but it was still rude and one well-aimed glare forced my brother to apologize.

"Hello Carina." Remus greeted quietly, sitting on the other side of Ramsey. "Sorry about your brother, he wanted to say hi."

"Well he can say hi and go away."

James attacked me with a bear hug, easily dismissing the half-hearted slaps on his arm. "Don't be so cold, Rina! I just wanted to see how your first day was, right Sirius?"

Sirius Black didn't look inclined to agree.

"So what are you doing?" James peered over at the admittedly poor outline of a Quidditch field and cocked a brow. "Is that a kraken?"

Morton's sniggers stopped abruptly upon my fierce glare. "No!" I snapped. "It's a Quidditch field!"

"... Somehow, I doubt you have much of a career in art."

"Shut up, Black."

Remus interrupted the brewing throw-down he sensed in the air. "So you're explaining Quidditch?"

The magic word. At the mention of the sport, James and Black perked up, eyes almost sparkling. "Quidditch!"

"Yes," Quinn Ramsey told them, "Emmanuel and Keene didn't know it, so we're trying to explain it to them. Didn't get much with those two arguing." Morton and I looked away at the pointed stare.

Connolly took in the horrified expression on the two Marauders. "I'm guessing that you play Quidditch?"

"Best thing in the world," my brother replied dreamily. I felt embarrassed for him. "Tryouts are next week, I'm aiming for Chaser, of course..." He turned to his best friend. "Think you'll make it?"

A wicked grin spread over the Black scion's face. "I'll make history as the best Beater Hogwarts has ever seen."

I snorted. In my opinion, the Weasley twins in the future would make much better Beaters than _this_ pompous fool. Much more modest, anyway.

"First years can't try and make the team..." James mused. "Well, that's alright, just play next year, alright Rina?"

I looked at him. "Of course not."

The expression on his face was a fascinating cross of horrified and outraged. "What! Why not?"

"Can you _imagine_ trying to study for exams while practicing for Quidditch? I know all about the rivalry between Houses at Hogwarts, the captains are most likely to be mad about winning, which equals a ridiculous amount of time spent outside on the field when I could be studying. And don't you roll your eyes at me!"

James rolled his eyes.

"Oh come off it, Rina," he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. "You're one of the best Quidditch players I've seen, and believe me there's a lot - so what if you don't get perfect scores on exams? You won't _die_, believe it or not."

At this point the rest of the Ravenclaw first years were torn between laughing at my plight or egging my brother on. Juliette reached out hesitantly but drew back just as quickly. I was also a bit wary of the sudden gleam in Connolly's eyes, not to mention Harper and Morton. This was rapidly becoming dangerous.

"Look, James," I said, exasperated. "I'm not joining the Quidditch team next year. You can always play against me at home, why bother at Hogwarts - ?"

Black apparently decided that it was a good idea to cut in. "I hate to admit it," he said, "but you're actually a good player, and I hate your guts." He expertly ignored the snarled "_Right back at you_" and plowed on. "Besides... if you make the team, then I'll have some fun hitting Bludgers your way." He chuckled darkly.

"You wish," I retorted. "Either way, I'm not joining, and that's final. No, shut up and listen, James. I am not joining the team next year."

Connolly jumped into the conversation. "What position do you play usually, Potter?"

"What does it look like I play?"

"... Well I dunno, that's why I'm asking, aren't I?"

Harper looked at me with a critical eye. "She looked like a Seeker," she said. "Light, speedy, fast - am I right?"

"No," I deadpanned.

James thought he ought to explain. "She plays Chaser, but if no one's there to play Seeker then she can substitute. Either one works."

To be utterly honest, I preferred being Chaser because in my mind, Seeker was wholly Harry's role. He made a much better one than I ever would, anyway - really, who catches a Snitch in the first five minutes of a match? Madness, that.

"Why? Do you play?" Black directed his gaze toward Connolly, who had brightened considerably and was now eyeing me with calculative eyes.

Connolly snorted. "Of course I play - Beater, preferably, but I make a fair Keeper."

"Very modest of you," Harper drawled. Adelheid hid a smirk behind one hand at the sight of the Irish wizard's wounded expression.

"Potter, you've got to be mad not to play next year," Connolly said, recovering quickly. "And your brother's right; you won't die if you don't get perfect marks. I know, it's a shocker."

I was not amused. "Weren't we trying to explain the rules of Quidditch to these two?"

Imogen smiled weakly. "You were talking about the goal posts and - the Quaffle, was it? How the Keeper has to block it...?"

In the end the Marauders decided that it was their duty to explain everything there was to know about Quidditch, boring me senseless but captivating their audience of first year Ravenclaws. A glance around the group confirmed the suspicion that my year mates were just as taken with the quartet of hell raisers as a good portion of the school was.

Adelheid, who I was suspecting came from a German pureblood family of some kind, didn't look entirely thrilled with the conversation either, most likely because she wasn't a huge fan of the sport. Even though she didn't look that enthralled by the enthusiastic explanations of my brother and his friends, she sat and did her best to look like she was. Ramsey was listening politely but looked genuinely interested when Remus utilized an advanced charm to make the illustrations move so as to help Lloyd and Imogen visualize Quidditch matches better.

I slung my bag over one shoulder and stood, slipping away unnoticed by the group. It was high time for me to begin exploring this place.

After a moment's hesitation I decided to head to the lake, where the giant squid was, but upon seeing a gaggle of older Slytherins in the shade of the nearby trees I changed my mind and walked in the direction where I was sure Hagrid's hut was.

"Hey! You're that Potter girl, right?"

Stopping short at the call, I craned my neck over a shoulder and watched cautiously as a vaguely familiar face dashed toward me, with windswept auburn hair and bright amber eyes. One word popped into my head: _lion._

He caught up and grinned down at me, breathing slightly erratic. "Potter, right?"

"Yes, that would be me." I eyed him carefully - where had I seen him before?

The boy smiled a smile so bright it was blinding. I was still blinking when he said, "I'm Daniel, Daniel Brigham, first year Gryffindor. I met your brother last night."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Brigham, as far as I knew, wasn't a pureblood name. It sounded more Muggle than anything, actually. "Did you need something?"

Brigham - from the Sorting, I recalled - looked sheepish. "Ah, no, I just saw you walking alone and decided it'd be nice to make more friends... interhouse relationships, I think?"

"Right," I said. "Of course." There was an awkward little silence before I cleared my throat and gestured weakly with one hand. "I was about to visit Hagrid, the Keeper of the Keys, would you like to join me?"

So off we went to see Hagrid, and along the way I discovered that Daniel Brigham proved to be good company. You learn something new every day, I suppose.

I pretended not to see the pair of dark eyes following us until we turned a corner.


	12. Chapter 12

And before I quite realized what was going on, I'd been at Hogwarts for a little less than a month, and I couldn't have been happier.

Classes, though they'd been rather dull and uninteresting in the beginning of the year, had gradually stepped up a level or two and were proving to be a nice challenge. Potions, taught by Slughorn, was... interesting. As my nephew had observed in his sixth year, Horace Slughorn was a large man with a weakness for crystallized pineapples and a rather remarkable ability to sniff out students with potential and talent.

Lily Evans was one. I, apparently, was another.

It was to my private amusement that Slughorn had, indeed, kept a watchful eye on my brother during his first year to see if he would prove to be as talented in the art of brewing potions as our mother was. James was unquestionably bright, charismatic and talented, but his disregard for the subject had left the man sorely disappointed, shifting aside Heir Potter and shuffling Lily into his little Slug Club.

During the first weeks at Hogwarts, Slughorn had watched me like a hawk, most likely trying to gauge the level of raw talent I possessed, hoping to snag a member of the renowned Potter line for his collection of remarkable students. By some odd miracle I passed the unofficial test and ever since I'd suffered his overly warm greetings and blatant favoritism. It was a huge relief that my housemates didn't resent me for it, instead amusing themselves by making jabs at being the teacher's pet. Harper in particular seemed to get a kick out of it.

James, and therefore Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew by extension, didn't hold the Potions professor in a favorable light. Perhaps because Lily glowed with pride whenever she was praised, or because he was the Head of the Slytherin House, but either way my brother had been aghast to discover that I had become another one of Slughorn's gems.

A swift stinging hex had resolved any issues for now.

As time flew by, the first year Ravenclaws had shuffled into small groups of especially good friends. That wasn't to say that we weren't all on good terms, because we _were_, but much like Harry had his Golden Trio and my brother had the Marauders, we formed our own groups with the people we were the most comfortable with. Groups like these were the type to last a lifetime and then some, and I knew this instinctively.

Somehow or another, Ryan Connolly had wormed his way into my heart and seized the role of best friend, and to my mild surprise Harper Crispin and Clay Morton had also joined our cozy little family. In hindsight though, they all made sense - with Harper's wicked sense of humor, Clay's sardonic side comments, and Connolly's laid-back personality, they complimented my aloof persona.

I refused to call Connolly by his first name, and so he returned the favor, calling me by my surname, which often had Harper rolling her eyes at our stubbornness. It had taken a little over a week to get around to calling Clay by _his_ first name, and my friends thankfully didn't make a big deal out of it. We were the type to take things in stride and get on with life, it seemed, and that was perfectly fine by me.

Though my relationship with my friends grew better and better with each passing day, I saw my brother and the rest of the Marauders less. But when I _did_ see them, my trouble radar was going nuts - living with James for so long had installed the wonderful ability to call out on bullshit and sniff out any pranks in the making. To my immense puzzlement though, I was sure they weren't cooking up any dastardly plans for the school anytime soon, but something was definitely up.

For one, the four of them seemed less like a closer than usual group of friends and more like four soul brothers, sharing a bond that far surpassed that of blood. Which was good, excellent even, because they were solidifying their position as the Marauders for good, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. (And maybe some jealousy, but I was trying not to succumb to it. _I_ was the outsider here.)

Remus, who was constantly tired and had premature worry lines on his worn - but handsome - face, didn't look like he was going to keel over and kick the bucket any minute. He seemed, dare I say it, _happier_, and I had noted the small spring in his steps recently too. All were positive improvements, absolutely, but my Potter curiosity wouldn't let me leave the matter be. I hadn't mentioned it to any of the Marauders though, respecting their secret and sensing that it was a matter I shouldn't interfere with. Aella, though she clearly knew what was going on, had refused to let me in the know and had instead redirected the conversation to the matter of the future. I thought she'd been pleased with my decision to stay out of the boys' business, though I really couldn't be certain.

As for my own secrets concerning the future... well, to be frank, I had nothing but two options, none of which I was looking forward to. The first was to let James and Lily die, which I couldn't even bear to _think_ about without feeling my heart clench uncomfortably. The second was to die in Lily's place, which honestly terrified me. I might have died once before, but by no means did that mean I wanted to do so again. Through my musings I'd deducted that life was an unbelievably precious thing and to willingly throw it away took true courage, the ability to look death in the eye and not flinch, and I wasn't sure if I possessed that courage.

I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was just Carina Potter, Ravenclaw first year.

But it was either my life, an existence that should never have been, or the lives of numerous extraordinary people and my nephew's chance of having a proper childhood. So even though the thought of willingly being murdered had my blood running cold, it was the far likeliest option. Even so, I threw myself into searching for a third path, never without a book or two. My friends had accepted it as a quirk of Rina Potter, the desire to learn absolutely everything there was to learn, and I was thankful for it.

After all, though I might not be a Gryffindor, I _was_ still a Potter, which meant I was not going down without a fight.

* * *

"Is today a Thursday?" Harper asked randomly, frowning blearily at the covers.

I stifled a snicker at the sight of her hopelessly wild bed head and responded in the affirmative, sweeping the upper hair of my hair into a pony, the lower part tumbling over my shoulders. By the time I had finished changing into my uniform and was tying the blue and bronze tie around my neck, she'd tumbled off the bed and was staring befuddled at the arching ceiling.

"I told you not to stay up so late," I called over my shoulder, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. "I don't care if the Holyhead Harpies were playing the Montrose Magpies, honestly, it's not even the weekends yet. Don't come crying if McGonagall catches you sleeping in her class today."

She grumbled, but staggered up and stumbled to a shower stall in the bathroom, dropping her clothes outside the stall door. A devout fan of the Harpies, she'd clung to the radio all night and had refused our demands that she get some sleep already. The game had lasted for a good eight hours and she'd ended up going to bed at five in the morning.

Adelheid, who had been flipping through a magazine on her bed, glanced at us. "I get that you love Quidditch, but you really could have waited. We have Hooch today with the Gryffindors, you can show off then."

"Don't even put a bunch of first years trying to fly with ancient school brooms on the same level as the Harpies, you blockhead," was the muffled reply. Del just rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine, occasionally calling Juliette or me over to point out an especially eye-catching outfit or fragrance or whatever. You wouldn't really expect a girl like Adelheid Farber to be interested in such things, but she was, and we weren't allowed to express our surprise over it.

Harper finally stepped out of the shower, a towel holding up her damp hair and she cast a cursory glance over the dorm, stalking to her vanity. "Where'd Imogen go?"

"She's off on a grand mission," Adelheid said blandly.

I rolled my eyes and Juliette threw her friend a scolding look. The two had bonded around the third or fourth day, along with the Muggleborn witch who was currently missing. "Imogen's gone to talk to Professor Slughorn," said Juliette.

"Well... why?"

Harper raised a brow as we collectively smirked (or, in Juliette's case, smiled). "She's off to battle," Adelheid said. "Slughorn gave her an A on her essay on burn salves, and she's furious. You know how hard she worked on that, so naturally she's going to corner that overweight walrus and demand an O, or an E at least."

So Imogen was on the warpath and I made a mental note to warn the boys about this little tidbit. For such a nice girl, she could be downright terrifying when she felt she had been slighted. I was not looking forward to the day some idiot of a boy broke her heart.

We made our way down to the Great Hall and greeted the boys, expertly ignoring Jacob's snoring form slumped precariously over his waffles. It had become part of the norm to see him sleeping when and wherever he could, so by this time we were accustomed to his quirks.

Clay and Harper's fierce debate over last night's Quidditch match had us all relatively entertained when Imogen stormed in, face as dark as death. Emmanuel whimpered as she slammed her bag down next to him, clambering onto the bench and viciously grabbing a piece of toast, buttering it like a maniac.

No one dared to breathe lest we upset her, and it was with baited breath that we watched her down a goblet full of milk. She practically threw it back onto the table and as she ripped off a chunk of toast, she glanced up and shot us a smoldering glare. "What?"

Everyone save Adelheid and Juliette looked away so fast our necks nearly snapped. "Well damn, girl," Del whistled, propping her chin on one hand, "did Sluggy refuse to raise your grade?"

"Yes!" Emmanuel winced at the roar, rubbing discretely at his ear. "That arse told me I should be glad with what I have and basically to just suck it up 'cause that's life! Then you know what he did?"

We shook our heads quickly. When Imogen was in a mood like this, not even Harper or Clay was dumb enough to crack a joke at her expense.

The Muggleborn witch scowled venomously at the Head Table, where a certain overweight Potions professor was determinedly looking everywhere else but the Ravenclaw table. "And as soon as he said that, he saw Eldred Worple and you know what he did? He _complimented_ that git's essay!"

Connolly and I exchanged confused glances, but wisely kept our heads down. Sure enough, after a swig of milk, she was ranting again. "I know for a fact that Worple didn't actually brew his potion, too! How unfair is that? And I can't even tell Slughorn that because then I'll look like a jealous hag. Ugh!"

"I thought Worple was a good writer?" Quinn Ramsey piped up, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He didn't wear them much - his eyesight really wasn't that bad - but when he did, he looked _good_. I hid a smile at Juliette's slightly wistful gaze.

Imogen spared him a scorching glare. "Your point?"

Being the smart kid he was, Quinn held his hands up in surrender and backed off.

After a tense breakfast where we kept an eye on Imogen until she simmered down, we trudged off to Transfiguration with McGonagall, then to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Vera Castelle. She was a short, wiry woman with coarse-looking blond hair pulled into a careless bun at the nape of her neck and had a pair of green square-framed glasses that lent her a stern appearance. Once she took them off though, well that was a whole different story.

Then it was lunch and afterwards Connolly and I trailed after a bickering Harper and Clay to our unofficial spot under the oak tree in the southern part of the castle grounds. It was a relaxing scene - Harper and Clay arguing animatedly, me settled in with my back against the trunk of the tree, cracking out a book while Connolly was sprawled over the grass, head resting in my lap. The first time he'd done that, I'd smacked him upside the head with the book I'd been holding (_Introduction to Elementary Runes_), but he persisted and eventually I just gave up and let him have his way. Since then, it'd been part of the norm.

We spent about ten minutes like that when I heard a meow and looked up to see Phaedra swatting a paw playfully across Connolly's face. He started and squinted at me balefully. "Control your cat, Potter, I was taking a nap."

Rolling my eyes, I scooped Phaedra into my arms. "What are you doing out of the dorms, love?"

In response the brown tabby squirmed, leaping out of my embrace and padded back to the castle, leaving me to stare blankly after her.

_**I think she wants you to follow,**_ Aella said dryly. Huffing at her tone, I nudged Connolly off my lap, gathered up my belongings and walked after my cat, who stopped every now and then to make sure I was following. A few more twists and turns later and I found myself in front of the painting of a fruit bowl.

"Well... what now?"

I just about kicked the bucket when a voice answered. "Now, you tickle the pear."

Sirius Black was standing behind me, hands in his pockets and tie loosened, the front of his robe unbuttoned to reveal the uniform he was wearing. He scowled as I stared at him, thrown off by his sudden appearance, and jerked his head at the painting. "Just tickle the pear already!"

I sent him one skeptical look but complied, jumping as it shivered and morphed into what was clearly a door handle. Black was apparently too impatient to wait any longer and pushed past me, twisted the handle, and opening the portrait-turned-door he stepped into the room beyond.

The Marauders were gathered around a small round table, talking in low undertones, and they looked up as Black joined their midst. I hovered by the door, wondering how they'd even found the kitchen, waiting for someone to speak up.

"Rina," my brother greeted, beckoning me over to the table. I took a seat hesitantly. "Haven't seen you for a while, have I?"

Black snorted derisively from where he was lounging in his chair. "Please, spare the waterworks for later, James. Though I don't know why she's here at all."

"I don't either," I told him. "Anyone mind telling me?"

Remus was avoiding my eyes, as was Peter, so I turned my gaze on James and Black. "Well?"

My brother leaned forward. "We need to tell you something."

* * *

**A/N: I realize I haven't updated in a long time, so first I apologize for that. Summer's here now, so I _should_ have more time to write, but you never know with life. What a pain.**

**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, follows and favorites, and I hope you enjoy the rest of Mosaic!**

**Beni**


	13. Chapter 13

I looked from James, to Sirius, to Remus, to Peter, and then back again to James.

"So," I said slowly, trying not to marvel at the fact that _yes_ my brother could be serious when needed, "you called me down here to tell me that..."

"Remus is a werewolf," James nodded.

For a split second I had the wildest urge to laugh. Because there I was, thinking that someone had died or something from the looks on their faces, and they go and tell me that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Which, me being who I was, I already knew. It was almost anticlimactic.

Then I realized that the boys didn't know that, so I heaved a sigh and stared flatly at them. "That's nice and all, but what do you want me to do about it?"

They had a collective moment of disbelief, gaping at me with wide eyes, before Remus recovered. "But... aren't you bothered by this? At all?" He sounded a bit strangled, the poor boy.

I raised a brow. "Should I be?"

"Yes!" he blurted, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, no, yes - " He looked beyond bewildered at this point. Waiting for the four of them to start thinking normally again was going to take a while, so I called over a house elf and asked her for a cup of tea. "I'm a werewolf!"

"I heard you the first time around, Remus." I thanked the house elf and sipped at the drink. Ah, excellent, green tea. It tasted as if a little honey had been added, which was perfectly alright. Sighing contently, I eased back in my seat. "It certainly explains your constant weariness, Remus. Quite frankly, I'm more concerned about the fact that you've called me down here at all."

Black had also recovered. "Why would you be concerned over that?"

"Because," I said dryly, "it means that you want me to do something for you and I'm not sure if I'll like it. And you being who you are... you can see why I'm a little worried."

My brother blinked and shook his head. "I told you she'd take it well," he told Remus, who still looked like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. I rummaged through my bag and fished out a bar of chocolate, which I pushed into his hands. "Eat."

The chocolate must have done some good, because he could focus now. "Carina," he said carefully, "are you... are you sure? Most people would be afraid of me being..."

"If you're James Potter's little sister, you can't exactly continue being most people." The green tea was really fantastic, but I set it down for the moment and looked him in the eye. "You might be a werewolf, but you're Remus Lupin, the person who keeps these idiots in check and a highly intelligent individual I respect. I know for a fact that you have an addiction to chocolate and that you're kind, even if you need more sleep and food, and that's good enough for me. You take care of my brother and that says it all, really."

James grinned broadly. "I'll overlook the fact that you called me an idiot. You're a great sister, Rina, have I ever told you that?"

"Several times. Might have forgotten some." I looked at Remus. "So I'm guessing you're how the Shrieking Shack got its name?"

"Er... yes, actually."

Peter offered me a timid smile, which I returned before turning to Remus. He met my eye and even though he didn't quite smile, I could tell he was grateful. "Now," I said, "what do you want from me?"

* * *

"No."

"C'mon, Rina! Please?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

I wheeled around, glowering at my brother. "Because it's bloody illegal, that's what!" Resuming my pacing, I reflected back on what had just transpired.

Black had been the one to break the news. "We want to become animagi," he'd said, staring disinterestedly at the ceiling. "To help Remus with his transformation, you know. James thinks it'd go a lot quicker if you helped, which I don't agree with."

Ignoring that little jab, I'd nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to McGonagall about it, she'll have a lot more tips on this since she is an animagus. She can help with the registration, too."

"Registration?" James had asked, surprised. "What registration?"

I'd then squashed a sudden pang of uneasiness. "The registration of all animagi? It's illegal not to, the Ministry frowns upon it heavily, since it's extremely dangerous without proper guidance from more experienced animagi. And on top of that, imagine what wizards and witches could do if no one knew of their other forms. It's dangerous, so you have to register."

The silence that had followed was hardly reassuring. "... Please tell me you were going to register."

Pettigrew had spilled the beans. "We just want to help Remus, it's really painful for him, and we'd like to keep it all a secret and so we don't want to register - "

"Peter!"

"Damn it Peter!"

So here we were, me pacing and the boys watching me anxiously. (Not Black. He was studying the wall with a keen interest.) "And do you understand how _dangerous _it'd be? Three boys, animagi, accompanying a werewolf on a full moon! I know you can't help your lycanthropy Remus, I'm not blaming you - in fact I think it's your friends' fault for roping you into this scheme - but really? What if something happens?"

"Carina!"

James's voice brought me to a screeching halt, and belatedly I realized I'd been nearing hysteria. He sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Rina," he said, "I get that you're worried - you're always worried - but this is our decision, and Remus is our friend. You know his scars?"

Of course I did. Everyone did.

"That's what he does to himself," my brother continued softly. I swallowed. It hit me right then, with Remus looking so tired and ragged, scars standing out against the pale skin, just how painful his transformations would be. All alone, in the Shrieking Shack, howling and trapped and having to resort to hurting himself in a desperate attempt to keep at least some sliver of his sanity, to not break out and bite others, damning them to the same misery he suffered...

James had a steely glint in his eyes. "He's my friend, Rina, and I won't let him hurt on his own anymore."

I gazed around the table. Black looked relaxed and bored to hell, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes shared the same firm resolve as my brother. Peter looked a lot less certain but there was no mistaking that desire to help a dear friend. And Remus... he was trying not to, I could tell, but he was hopeful, wishing his friends would somehow find a way to keep him company on those hellish nights...

They didn't really leave me with a choice. Not after that. So I exhaled heavily through my nose and slumped forward, hands wrapped around the small cup of green tea. "Alright."

Black looked over sharply. James stilled. "What?"

"I'll help," I said crossly, gulping down the rest of the tea. "I must be bloody insane to do this, but yes, I'll help you three become animagi. Unregistered animagi. I'll have to do some more research of course, don't know if the library will have anything, maybe I'll order some books from Flourish and Blotts, we can't go about this very obviously though - "

James had swept me up into a monster hug, squeezing the breath out of me. "I knew there was a reason why I liked you! Thank you! I'll pay you back, I swear, I'll do anything - "

"She's turning blue, mate, might want to put her down - "

I sucked in air greedily. "Just don't do that again. And don't die."

* * *

The library became my best friend. (Not that it wasn't before, but I digress.) I didn't make my research obvious of course, covering it up nicely with the excuse that I was working on the three-parchment-long essay for Castelle. You'd think that a retired Auror would be less interested in correcting essays than in testing students for their aptitude for survival in a real situation but apparently not.

So after lunch one day, I waved off the others and went to the library, mind working a mile a minute to figure out just how an animagus transformation worked. It was complex, far complex than any other spell I'd seen so far, but the Ravenclaw in me was on to it like a dog with a bone. It was absolutely fascinating to study and despite myself I was hooked.

When I'd gone off on a tangent one day, James had stared at me blankly before grinning and giving me a thumbs-up. "I have no idea what you just said, but I knew you'd come around!"

Well, I supposed there was a reason I was in Ravenclaw.

In the massive library, I'd just settled down at the table in the far corner, near the large windows overlooking the lake, when Evan Rosier made his entrance.

Over the past few weeks, Rosier and I had established a strange semblance of friendship that I was more inclined to call a truce. The second year Slytherin had showed up at several of my favorite places to pass time while expressing mild surprise each time we crossed paths. I had good reason to suspect that these run-ins were planned, though, seeing as most of the time I was alone when they occurred. But I had been uncertain as to where exactly I stood with the boy so I couldn't tell him to shove off, instead politely greeting and engaging him in the occasional conversation.

Which, I suppose, was fortunate, because once I got to know him he really wasn't all too bad. He was arrogant, sly, and held Muggleborns in a contemptuous light, sure, but on the other hand he was also intelligent, perceptive, polite (alright, to a select few) and made for good conversation. All in all, yes, he was a bit of an ass, but he was _human_. We all had our faults and I had no right to shun him for his.

James hadn't exactly been ecstatic over this development but I had told him quite clearly that if he attempted to sabotage my strange friendship with the Slytherin, he would be spewing slugs every time he opened his mouth. (I'd been inspired by Ron Weasley's unfortunate blunder sometime in the future and had looked up spells resembling it. The search had been beyond rewarding and I was now armed with an arsenal of decidedly disgusting but effective spells to wield at my pleasure.)

Rosier slid into the seat across from mine. "Good afternoon, Miss Potter."

"Heir Rosier," I greeted, and just like that we lapsed into comfortable silence. After an hour or so at furiously researching animagus transformations and similar branches of magic, I'd taken a break for fear of my brain imploding from information overload. Thus, I was leisurely reading a book detailing the benefits of certain plants, and how to recognize flowers that could kill you in roughly three minutes. I wasn't exactly nuts about Herbology - dirt, dirt, the _smell_... hey, I was allowed to be a girl - but it was went without saying that the pros of learning about these strange flora outweighed the cons.

A polite cough drew me away from the usage of hellebore in the Draught of Peace, and I stared at Rosier for a full minute before starting. "Oh! Pardon me, was there something you needed?"

He stared back and I had to resist the urge to squirm. Unlike many others I've become acquainted with, Rosier was difficult to read at best and downright impossible to crack at worst. This teetered somewhere in between.

Abruptly he glanced to the side, giving me time to regain proper composure, and by the time he looked back, I was practically the epitome of serenity. Something like satisfaction? approval? flashed through those dark eyes and then he shrugged almost lazily. "I was just wondering," he said, "about what had captured your attention so."

My eyes flickered down to the yellowed pages of the tome in front of me and back to him. "Just a deeper look into Herbology, to sate my curiosity," I replied. "The benefits of some of these plants are simply mind-blowing, especially when applied to medicinal uses." Warming to the topic, I flipped back a few pages and pointed out a picture of a rather unassuming plant. "This is dittany, and despite its small size it has the ability to grow fresh skin over a wound and may prevent permanent scarring. Unfortunately, it's fairly rare, but if acquired it would prove most useful."

"You have an interest in the healing arts, then?" Rosier broke in smoothly, barely looking at the page I had opened to.

I hummed vaguely. "It's a bit too early to determine what field to pursue, but it is of my belief that possessing a healthy level of knowledge in all areas will prove useful later on."

Rosier studied me, as he always did, before the corner of his mouth curled up and his countenance relaxed. "In that case..."

We were discussing the possible uses of dittany (and other healing herbs) not mentioned in the book and really getting into it when someone sighed gustily to my left. Looking up, I wished I hadn't, because Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were standing there, the former eyeing my companion with distaste.

"Black?" I blinked. "What are you doing here?"

As far as I knew, he never willingly entered the library, tending to avoid it like the plague. This had suited the both of us just fine, because we detested spending more time together than absolutely necessary. So why was he now encroaching upon my territory?

The Black scion scoffed and turned to face me instead. "James wants you," he said bluntly. "He's demanding you help him with... something."

Peter was hovering behind his friend, occasionally stealing nervous glances at Rosier. The Slytherin second year ignored his presence completely, gazing loftily at my brother's right hand man with almost-palpable disdain.

"Something, huh." I could read between the lines. James had done something utterly stupid and required my help in cleaning up the mess. This wasn't the first time I'd had to rush off to do some serious damage control. For such a loveable boy, he was really high-maintenance.

I shot the Slytherin an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I must take my leave now. It was wonderful talking with you, thank you, and I hope you'll forgive me for my abrupt departure."

He inclined his head. "Always, Miss Potter."

"Very well - good day, Heir Rosier."

Black made an impatient sound and grabbed my bag, hauling it over one shoulder and stalking off to the doors, completely ignoring my hissed protests (hello, library, silence is golden). Peter predictably scuttled close behind him, looking cowed at the looming bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Sighing, I nodded at Rosier and hastily followed the two Marauders out the library.

* * *

It turned out that my brother had once again offended Lily Evans and slighted Severus Snape, but this time the Slytherin was in the infirmary recovering from the angry boils on his hands and the redheaded Gryffindor was spitting mad. Frantic, James had hauled me in to sort it out, and it was to my pleasure to say that Lily no longer wished to gut my brother.

I didn't see Rosier for a while, but the next day, when I made it back to the library, Madam Pince handed me a small, unassuming package. When I opened it curiously, a wooden box filled with dittany herbs greeted my eyes, and a card with elegant writing scrawled across its creamy surface:

_I look forward to seeing the products of your genius. -E.R._

Oddly touched, I fingered the note before carefully tucking it away.

* * *

**A/N: Hello my readers, wonderful day we're having. I'd like to apologize for the delay in updates, but apparently summer does NOT guarantee fun and some R&R. Pity, that. I hope you can forgive me, and thank you for everyone who followed, favorited or reviewed the previous chapters. **

**-Beni**


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